


Drabbles and more drabbles

by MissieMoose



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Mulan (1998), Multi-Fandom, Original - Fandom, Original Work, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon x original character, Drabble Collection, Emotions, Ficlet Collection, Multi, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Polyamory, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, multifandom - Freeform, original character x original character - Freeform, original non-human characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-01-30 11:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 22,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12652461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissieMoose/pseuds/MissieMoose
Summary: Just a place where I can post my drabbles/ficlets/writing challenges instead of posting them all individually. Will have multiple fandoms, AUs, and original stuff all intermingled.





	1. Oh god, you’re bleeding! / You’re safe now. I’ve got you

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these are going to be based around prompts found on tumblr and the chapter titles will usually be what the prompt(s) is/are. Will try to remember to also post what fandom/what characters are in the prompts at the start of the 'chapters'. There will be a lot of ocxcanon pairings :p

Ting-Ting couldn’t stop shaking. Not from cold -no, it was actually rather warm in the room- but from fear. Her arms were tied behind her back and her legs were tied in three different places to ensure she couldn’t escape. A twisted bandana was wrapped around her head to act as a gag and her eyes had been covered.

On either side of her, also tied up and gagged, were Mei and Su. Knowing they were there and that they were unharmed brought her a small amount of comfort.

But the muffled voices outside the door quickly chased away that comfort. The door was opened and a group of people walked in, speaking in a language she didn’t quite recognize. She turned her head as she heard the scraping of wooden chairs on stone followed by Mei and Su whimpering.

Then, the blindfold was yanked from her face. Clenching her eyes shut against the bright spotlight, she cursed only for it to be obscured by the fabric in her mouth. After half a minute, she was able to open her eyes, though she was forced to squint against the light.

Cold metal was pressed against her temple, making her stiffen.

Just past the light, she could make out a group of people, one of whom was holding a cellphone. The person beside her was speaking, his voice loud enough for whoever was on the phone to hear. Who was on the phone, she hadn’t the slightest idea. It could have been her father, it could have been Chief Shang -it could even be one of her father’s enemies.

The door suddenly burst open and the man beside Ting-Ting slumped forward. As he hit the ground, blood began pooling around his head. Surprised shouting came from the group of people; Ting-Ting squinted in an attempt to see what was happening, but the light was too bright.

Gunshots, painfully loud in the small room, went off. Behind her, Mei and Su screamed against their gags. Ting-Ting started to struggle against the rope around her wrists, but it was tied too well. Someone knocked over the spotlight, making her flinch as it crashed to the floor.

Once more, the room was pitch-black, save for the meager amount of light given off by the forgotten phone. She could hear grunts and dull thuds; she yelped as more gunshots rang out and her cheek filled with pain.

A bullet had grazed her.

She prayed that her sisters hadn’t been hit.

A sickening crunch sounded and all fell silent. An overhead light suddenly turned on and Ting-Ting let out a muffled, but extremely relieved, cry of joy. Across from her stood their eldest sister, her shoulders heaving from the fight she just put up.

But Zhu didn’t turn her attention to them just yet. Kneeling down, she picked up the phone, glaring into the screen. She started to speak in the language Ting-Ting had heard just a few minutes ago. A shudder ran down Ting-Ting’s spine; her words sounded vicious and cruel.

She knew Zhu was threatening to hunt down whoever was on the other end of the phone.

Zhu ended her threats by slamming the phone down on the floor, shattering it to pieces. Then, darting forward, she knelt beside Ting-Ting and pulled the gag out of her mouth.

“Spirits, you’re bleeding!” She pulled up the sleeve of her shirt, pressing it against Ting-Ting’s cheek. Her other hand was pulling a knife from her belt. “Are you hurt anywhere else? Are _any_ of you hurt?!” She started sawing at the ropes binding her sister.

“I’m fine,” Ting-Ting assured her, her hands now free. “It’s just a scratch. I’m fine. Get Mei and Su. I can untie my legs.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, beginning to work on the knots. As she unwound the rope, she could hear her younger sisters sobbing in relief. Finishing the last knot, she stood up in time to see Mei lunge forward and cling onto Zhu. The next thing Ting-Ting knew, she and Su had joined their sisters, all three sobbing their hearts out to their big sister.

“Shh, shh…You’re safe now,” Zhu told them, somehow managing to hold all three against them. “You’re all safe now. I’ve got you.”

Mei sniffled loudly and tried to wipe her nose on her shirtsleeve. “We—we were s-so scared!” she whimpered. “They kept—they kept threatening us!”

“Saying that if dad didn’t give them what they wanted, they’d off us one by one,” Su added, her eyes clenched shut and her face buried in Zhu’s shoulder.

“Who was on the phone?” Ting-Ting asked, her voice shaky despite her efforts to sound normal. “It wasn’t dad. You were—you were death threatening them.”

Zhu closed her eyes. “I wasn’t death _threatening_ him,” she sighed. “I was _promising_ his death.”


	2. Are you kidding me right now?! / Breathe, okay? Just Breathe.

Bridges were meant for one thing and one thing alone: Safe passage across a wide gap.

_Not_ for fighting battles on.

And yet, that’s _exactly_ what Coven found herself doing.

To make matters worse, the bridge she was fighting on was the very bridge Zant had thrown her from nearly seven years ago. With no protective railings or walls, she knew it was a very _real_ possibility that she could be thrown off again. If it happened, she didn’t know if the goddesses would allow her to live again.

‘So stay in the middle,’ she told herself, bringing her glaive around and through a lizalfos. ‘Stay in the middle and you’ll be fine.’

She tried to look around for her comrades, but it was hard. Chaos surrounded her on all sides. A curse left her mouth as she felt a blade graze her skin; spinning around, she stabbed her glaive into a bulblin.

As it fell, it seemed like three more darted forward to take its place.

“Coven!” She looked to her left; there was Ashei, dancing around her enemies with her rapier. She managed to clear a path and hurried over. Coven could see places where the bulblins had gotten through her armor -but not by much, thankfully. “We need to pull back, yeah? There are too many for even _us_ to bring down.”

The two females kept their backs to one another as they continued to fight.

“Has Auru exhausted his cannon?”

“Yes. He and Rusl are defending the northern gate.”

“And Link?”

Ashei was quiet for a moment. “I haven’t seen Link since the battle started,” she admitted.

Coven frowned. “That’s not good,” she murmured. “Maybe he’s with the others?”

“He could be. Regardless, we need to pull back. It’s just you and me, yeah? We can’t stem the flow of enemies much longer. There are too many.”

Swallowing hard, Coven nodded. “Yeah…too many. You start heading back first -I’ll cover you.” She glanced over her shoulder as Ashei set her hand on her arm.

“Good luck, yeah?” She smiled before darting away, her sword flashing as she began cutting a path.

She did her best to defend Ashei’s retreat, though it was difficult. The bulblins and lizalfos were faster than her and kept dodging. But she continued to fight, willingly giving up more and more of the bridge as they drove her back.

Coven was a quarter of the way back when a roar echoed through the canyon. She cursed; what sort of creature was the enemy about to unleash now? A second, closer roar made her look to the sky in curiosity.

A dragon was flying towards the bridge.

She would have grinned, but a lizalfos whipped around, knocking her feet out from under her. With a curse, she toppled forward, her glaive flying from her hands. She tried to crawl forward to retrieve it, but the lizalfos was already on her, clawing and biting at her. Managing to turn around, she held up her forearms, her fins acting as shields for her.

“Get—off—of—me!” she snarled. She tried to kick the lizalfos off, but it was of little use -it used its heavy tail to pin her legs down.

Suddenly, the lizalfos was sent, flying, over the edge of the bridge.

Looking up, Coven saw a man in red armor and a horned helmet standing over her. He growled quietly, a bit of smoke leaving his mouth.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” she grinned.

Offering her a hand up, the man smirked. “If I had known there was a battle going on, I would have been here sooner,” he replied. “As it was, Link had to invite me.” He looked towards the south end of the bridge, frowning. Looking as well, Coven saw that the number of bulblins and lizalfos had been greatly lessened and those that remained were on fire. “There are at least a thousand of them,” he told her. “Not just bulblins and lizalfos, either. They have bokoblins, Darknuts, ReDead Knights…Oh, and they have—”

He was cut off by a horn blast. The tide of bulblins and lizalfos parted, allowing for a massive figure to barrel through the southern gate. Coven’s jaw fell.

“—They have moblins,” he sighed.

“ _Moblins_? As in more than one!?”

“Yes.”

“Are you _kidding_ me right now?!” She looked up at him. “Volga, how many moblins do they have?!”

He looked down at her, a smirk on his lips; though she couldn’t see it, she could tell his brow was raised. “Not enough to stop _us_.”

Before Coven had the chance to reply, he was charging forward, his lance at the ready. Then, a blur of a green and brown rushed past -Link. Shaking her head, Coven crouched down for her glaive only to find it already standing upright. There was Ashei, a small, confident grin on her lips.

“Can’t let the boys have all the fun, yeah?”

Rolling her eyes, Coven couldn’t help but laugh. “Let’s go.”

The two females ran forward, chasing after Link and Volga.

The moblin had looked large from a distance; up close, it looked _enormous_. By the time Ashei and Coven reached it, Link was already slashing at it legs and Volga was breathing fire at its face in an attempt to blind it. Ashei started dancing about, her sword slipping between the gaps and hinges in the moblin’s armor. A few pieces of leather swung loose, but not enough to get to its hide.

Blocking was tight. The moblin took up most of the room, forcing the four warriors to fight in close quarters with one another. Making things even more difficult was the club it was swinging -there had already been more than one near misses.

Link and Ashei managed to get the moblin turned around so that its back faced Coven and Volga. The latter was working on heating up some of the moblin’s armor with his fire. The former was trying to cut through the thick straps holding its sabatons on.

“We need to get to its top half, yeah?” Ashei called out. “Get it from there!”

“Got it!” Coven called back. ‘Here goes nothing,’ Coven thought, clenching her jaw. Backing up a few yards, shifted her hold on her glaive. Then, running forward, she slammed the butt of her weapon down and launched herself upwards.

Being forced to drop her weapon in favor of holding on, Coven started climbing up the moblin’s back. The wide straps holding on its breastplate made the climb a bit easy; it’s flailing about and the occasional stream of fire almost hitting her did _not_. To make matters worse, the moblin started shouting and dancing about in an attempt to grab her.

Cursing, she ducked as the club swung dangerously close to her head. She started climbing faster until she found a spot where no armor covered its thick hide. A smirk came to her face: The spot left the moblin’s entire right shoulder bare. Grunting, she stabbed her fin into the flesh and yanked. Both she and the moblin cried out; its hide was tougher than she expected. As she tried to pull her fin out, the flesh around clung on, threatening to pull it from her arm.

“Did it get you?!” Volga shouted.

“I’m alright!” she shouted to her friends. “I’m going to try to take out its club arm!” As she finished the sentence, she stabbed her fin into the flesh once more. This time, she used her own weight to help create a large, open wound. She stuck her tongue out; she could _feel_ the muscles and tendons severing as she slid down.

Its arm -now limp and useless- flailed about. But it still held the club. The moblin let out a deafening roar and spun around. Coven heard the sound of crunching metal. Peeking over the side of the creature, she let out a cry: Volga, the front of his armor severely dented, had been knocked from the bridge.

Volga was making no effort to change into his draconic form -he was unconscious. Before she even realized it, Coven had thrown herself from the moblin. Keeping her arms at her sides, she was able to catch up to the falling knight. Above her, she could hear the shouts and cries of their friends.

There was no helping them.

She knew it would be many minutes before they hit water. Reaching out, she grabbed Volga’s armor and pulled him against her. Part of her was relieved that he was still breathing.

“Hey—Hey, Volga! You need to wake up!” she called, but her voice was lost to the rushing air. “Volga!” She tried smacking his face, but it was an awkward ordeal; the air kept catching her fin, pulling her arm back.

Tears started to sting her eyes. ‘Please wake up,’ she thought, fingers now clawing desperately at the straps of his breastplate. ‘Goddesses, please help us!’ When she got them undone, the breastplate flew back, smacking her in the face and making her leg go of Volga in shock.

She fought against the dented armor, finding it to be a struggle to get it off her. At last, she twisted herself in such a way that it went flying off behind her. Seeing that they were almost about to hit the river, she tried to reach for Volga once more.

She didn’t want him to die first -she didn’t want him to die _alone_.

But he was the first to hit the water.

Coven hit just seconds after.

It was like falling into a partly-frozen brick of ice. Hitting the surface was hard and painful, but below it, the water was freezing, but soft. Opening her eyes, Coven found herself staring up at the sky, the sight constantly moving thanks to the rushing water.

“Wait…I’m alive?” she said alone, feeling the icy water filter through her gills. Her eyes widened even more. “If _I’m_ alive then—”

Turning herself around, she frantically began searching for Volga. After nearly half a minute, she finally found him. He was nearly a hundred yards away and getting further by the second. His body was limp as the current carried him downstream.

“Please be alive, please be alive,” she whispered, swimming after him.

Swimming, she found, was a bit more difficult than usual. At the moment, though, she didn’t care. She still had the speed and agility of a fish and that was all that mattered.

Hooking her arms under Volga’s armpits, she swam for the surface. As they broke through the surface, she found it hard to keep his head above the water -he was much heavier than he looked. She was certain she wouldn’t be able to carry him if she had been a full-blooded human.

Then again, if she had been a full-blooded human, she may not have survived the fall.

His larger body, though, made getting him to shore a bit awkward. Coven now knew why her swimming had been off: Her prosthetic leg was missing.

‘Probably broken in the fall,’ she thought. ‘I’ll get a new one later.’

After a grueling ten minutes, she was able to drag him onto shore. Panting, she kneeled over him, her ear pressed against his chest. She thought she could hear a heartbeat, but it could very well have been her own racing heart. Holding her hand over his mouth, she felt for a breath.

There was none.

Biting her lower lip, she clasped her hands together and started pressing down on his chest. Her uncles Fyer and Falbi had taught her how to do this when she was younger, just in case her mother -a human- ever nearly drowned. It helped to push water out of the lungs, Fyer had told her.

After about fifteen presses, she plugged Volga’s nose before forcing her own breath into his lungs. Falbi had told her that this would jumpstart the person’s breathing. She hoped her uncles were right.

She was in the middle of her third set of chest compressions when Volga stirred. She helped him roll onto his side as he started to throw up; she didn’t care when he got puke on her arm and leg. Never would she have ever thought she’d see the day she’d be _thankful_ for someone throwing up on her. Yet, here she was, tears of relief streaming from her eyes.

Volga gasped for breath, his fingers dug deep into the ground. “The mob-moblin,” he wheezed. “Is it—is it dead?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, started to rub his back. “You need to breathe. _Breathe_. Just breathe, Volga.” Still rubbing his back with one hand, she used the other to undo the chinstrap of his helmet. When she tossed it aside, he grabbed her hand, holding onto it for dear life.

“Are we even _alive_?” he asked, glancing up at her.

“Just barely,” she replied, smiling tiredly.

Pushing himself to his knee, but not letting go of her hand, Volga looked around. “Where…are we?”

“At the bottom of the ravine.”

His brows furrowed and he looked at her; his eyes were impossible to see thanks to the black marking covering the top half of his face. “You’re joking.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not.” She then noticed the torn and bloodied hole in his shirt. “Goddesses, Volga! You’re bleeding!” Twisting round, she tried to see if she still had any potions in her belt pouches. “I _know_ I had a blue potion somewhere—”

Volga cut her off by gently forcing her to look at him. “It’s nothing,” he assured her, kissing her forehead. “Are _you_ hurt?” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him so he could bury his face in the crook of her neck.

“I—I don’t think so. But my leg…I lost it in the fall.” She wrapped her arms around him, fingers gripping the back of his shirt.

“A fake leg is better than a real leg,” he said, voice muffled against her neck. “Give me a few more minutes rest. Then I’ll take us back to the others.”

She nodded, a small and sarcastic laugh leaving her mouth. “Yeah. Yeah, _of course_. You nearly _died_ and you just need a five-minute rest. Goddesses forbid you even drink a potion or something. But I guess you’re not thirsty, huh? Got your fill when you were in the river. Oh, and don’t bother getting a new breastplate -the weapons will just bounce off those abs of yours!”

He grinned. “I love you, too.”


	3. The tender ache when you press against bruises

She didn’t know why, but the pain felt… _nice_.

Zhu sat in her room, her eyes fixed on the slowly dying candle across from her. Every few minutes, she dug her fingers into the dark blue-black bruises lining her arms and face. Some had more of a sharp pain to them while others were dull aches.

Ever since Ling and Ting-Ting had announced their engagement, she had felt numb both in body and in mind. Every smile, every laugh, every conversation—they had all been an act. It had been such a struggle to make it a convincing act.

But now, sitting alone in the dark of her room, pain shooting from each bruise she poked, she finally started to feel human again. Thanks to her blackened left eye, even blinking brought her some pain. Closing her eyes, she raised her hand and let her fingers glide over her bruised eye. Its freshness meant even the slightest touch sent a shooting pain through her skin.

She knew she shouldn’t have gotten in the fight that caused all these bruises. She had _known_ it was a bad idea. But how was she supposed to let the man who insulted Ling go without punishment?

She couldn’t. As numb as she had been, she couldn’t let that man think he could get away with ruining the engagement dinner.

Of course, both Ling and Ting-Ting scolded her afterwards. Not that she minded—at the time. As she thought back to the previous night, she felt a deep ache inside her chest. Ting-Ting had admonished her well enough, telling her that she had been reckless and that she shouldn’t have gotten herself hurt on their behalf.

But it was Ling’s _yelling_ that made her breath catch in her throat and her eyes start stinging. Ling had _never_ yelled at her—at _anyone_ for that matter. He could defend his own honor and didn’t need her defending it for him, he had shouted. Fighting wasn’t always the answer to problems, he had snapped.

Maybe they shouldn’t have invited a _Hun_ to their engagement dinner, he had finished.

She pressed her fingers, hard, against the bruise. A hiss of pain left her mouth, but she welcomed the pain. The tears that fell from her eyes stung the tender skin and she clenched her mouth shut, forcing herself to stay silent as her body wanted to sob and wail.

Outside her door, she could hear people walking past and hear their muffled voices. Thanks to the silhouettes against the rice paper, she knew who it was who walked by. At some point, Ting-Ting stood outside her door. Zhu knew she was debating whether she should come in and apologize on Ling’s behalf.

But she walked away just a minute later.

Zhu stared at the door a little while longer before reaching over and pinching the candle’s flame out. Sliding open her window, she crept outside and made her way towards the stables. She couldn’t keep pressing bruises and staring at flames.

She needed to go for a ride.

Saddling Umut took no time for her; she had done it thousands of times before. Before mounting her, she made sure no one was in the courtyard. Finding it devoid of life, she climbed into the saddle and urged the mare forward, away from the property.

Riding off down the road, Zhu wasn’t sure she would return.


	4. Close your eyes / Don't look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, some original stuff lol

Bair’s entire right side hurt.

She was surprised it didn’t hurt more; she had been thrown into a wall, after all. The shooting pain in her shoulder let her know it was dislocated. She’d deal with it later; for now, she had bigger things to worry about.

 _Much_ bigger. And hairier. And _smellier_.

Racing towards her was what looked like a Sasquatch, but with some wolfish features. She had never seen a creature like it before -which was saying something. It was almost like a werewolf and a sasquatch had had a child.

The creature lunged at her. Before it could reach her, a blur of blue-and-white slammed into it. The two beings crashed through the wall, sending bits of wood and plaster flying.

Scrambling to her feet, Bair hurried after the two. Her right arm hung, limp and useless, at her side as she hopped through the hole. Her left arm, though, was busying itself by unfastening something from her belt.

“Vithar! Duck!” she shouted before uncorking the thing. She then threw it at the creature.

Vithar -the blue-and-white being- launched himself away from the creature. Whatever hit it burst into a cloud of silver mist. The creature let out an ear-piercing howl and started to claw at its face.

“What was that?” Vithar asked, rushing over to Bair. “Glitter?”

Grabbing his hand, she started to pull him towards the hallway. “Silver dust.” Once they were in the hallway, she led him outside. Behind them, she could hear the creature thrashing about, still howling in agony. “Thanks to its pain, I now know it’s _some_ sort of were-creature.”

“It’s got to be a hybrid. I’ve _never_ seen something like—”

He was abruptly cut off as the windows behind them burst into thousands of shards. Both he and Bair were sent sprawling to the ground as the creature barreled through them. It stopped a few yards from them, turning around and snarling at them before charging again.

Vithar swore. Lunging forward, he used his body to shield Bair. Seconds later, he felt his back being shredded by the creature. He cried out, but held Bair closer to him, doing his best to protect her.

Seeing that the pair had stopped moving, the creature assumed it had managed to kill them. It pulled back and snorted before turning its back to them and heading back for the house.

Bair untangled herself from Vithar only to softly whimper. “Oh gods, your back…” She bit her lower lip; his back looked _horrible_.

“So long as you’re okay,” he grunted. “I’ll be fine. It looks worse than it is, I promise.” His fingers dug into the earth and, despite the smile he wore, she could see that his eyes were filled with pain.

Anger started to swell up inside Bair. Clenching her teeth, she narrowed her eyes as she looked towards the house. “Close your eyes,” she said, standing up. “Close your eyes and don’t look until I give you the all clear.”

He frowned. “Bair, _no_ —it’s not worth it!”

“It _killed_ an entire family and _ate_ them,” she growled. He shuddered; her voice had grown hoarse and harsh. “And it hurt _you._ It _is_ worth it. Now close your eyes.”

Knowing he couldn’t argue with her, Vithar shut his eyes. He cringed when he heard the sickening popping of her shoulder being forced back into place. A few minutes later, he could hear chaos happening inside the house. Snarling, growling, whimpering…It sounded like he was listening to feral animals fighting.

In a way, he was.

A high-pitched whining soon filled his ears and he knew Bair had won the fight. A sigh of relief left his mouth, though he kept his eyes shut. He knew better than to look at her just yet. She _hated_ being seen in her true form. He didn’t mind it, really -he had seen scarier creatures throughout his long life- but he honored her wishes.

There was a heavy ‘thwump’ beside him.

“You can open your eyes now,” came Bair’s voice. She sounded exhausted and, when he opened his eyes, he found that she _looked_ exhausted. Her skin was almost white and she was covered in bites and scratches; her clothes were thoroughly soaked with blood.

“…How are you not unconscious right now?” he asked as she flopped down beside him. “You’re covered in blood!”

Bair smirked, her eyes closing as she let herself fall back against the ground. “Most of it isn’t mine,” she assured him. “In the end, I got it in the jugular. Being that I was pinned under it…” She shrugged only to hiss in pain.

He slowly shook his head, sighing and crawling over to her. Laying down beside her, he wiped enough blood from her face to leave her cheek bare before kissing the spot. “Want me to draw you a bubble bath when we get home?”

She smiled. “That sounds _wonderful_.”


	5. Are you scared? / Please don't leave me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off a dream I had a few nights ago. May see more drabbles based off this dream, who knows?

Are you scared? / Please don’t leave me

 

Coven had never felt so scared.

Clutching Ralis to her chest, she willed every fiber of her being to keep running. The hollow sounds of rattling bones and chattering teeth echoed through the forest, filling the two with fear. The darkness around them didn’t help -Coven could barely see two yards ahead of her.

She silently prayed to the goddesses for help. Even if it was as small as finding a place where Ralis, at least, could hide from the monsters -both living and undead- hunting them. With how their luck had been during the last twenty-four hours, however, she doubted her prayers would be heard.

Her foot suddenly caught on a tree root, sending her flying forward. She was able to twist herself just enough to keep Ralis from being crushed beneath her. As they skidded a few feet, though, she found that her cousin’s safety had come at a cost to her.

Letting out a cry of pain, she gripped her right forearm. Normally, that would have been difficult thanks to her fin -but there was no fin left. Just jagged flesh and hot, sticky blood.

“Coven!” Ralis helped her sit up. “Coven, what happened? Are you hurt?!”

“Don’t worry about me,” she told him through clenched teeth. She started to try to get to her feet, but her legs felt like jelly. “We need—we need to press on. We got to get you out of this place. Or at least find a stream or a river. _Something_.”

He shook his head, though he knew she couldn’t see it. “No. It’s alright now, Coven. The noises stopped. We can rest!” He forced her to sit back down. “The stalchildren and stalhounds have gone away.”

She wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that the monsters would never go away in this place, but instead, she grabbed him and held him against her again. Whatever the cost, she was going to protect him from the horrors of the Lost Woods. She had to.

He was their people’s only hope.

“Coven?” His voice sounded small against the eerie emptiness of night. Maybe he had been right -maybe the monsters _had_ finally left them alone?

“Hm?” she replied, her eyes shut as she held him.

“…Are you scared?” he asked. “Of the stalchildren and stalhounds?”

She shook her head. “No. If I had my leg brace and my glaive, I would have fought them off instead of ran away. No…but I am scared of the thought of them hurting you.”

He nodded against her chest, his eyes closing. “What are we supposed to even do if we find out way out of here, though?” He paused for a moment, his voice having caught in his throat. “Mother and Uncle are dead. That-That woman _killed_ our family! And she had her henchmen dump us in these woods to _kill_ us as well…” He let out a sob, clutching onto her.

Swallowing hard, Coven shut her eyes and rubbed his back. “ _When_ we get out of here, we’ll go for help,” she told him, voice soft. “We’ll make our way to the Gorons or even Princess Zelda. They’re our allies. They’ll help us.”

“But what if she’s already gotten to them?”

Coven found herself unable to reply. She hadn’t thought of that. Had the woman -Tisiphone, she had called herself- already struck other parts of Hyrule? Or was Zora’s Domain the first stop on her reign of terror?

Her eyes suddenly snapped open. She could hear the familiar sound of rattling bones. Swearing aloud, she tried to stand, but her right leg wasn’t having it. Able to stumble forward just a few feet, she then collapsed onto her knees once again. She tried again and, again, she fell.

It was no use. Her leg refused to hold her weight anymore.

With no other choice left to her, she half crawled, half dragged, both herself and Ralis to the trunk of a tree. Using herself as a shield, she pressed Ralis as far as she could between the roots.

“Stay as quiet as you can,” she whispered beside his ear. She felt him reach out and grip her hand again. She gripped his in return.

‘Please, Goddesses,’ she thought, ‘I don’t care what happens to me. Just please keep Ralis safe.’

The rattling was getting louder. She did her best to not move, not wanting to draw attention to their hiding spot, but she was beginning to grow dizzy thanks to her bleeding arm. Her limbs were beginning to feel weak, but she ignored the feeling. Against her better judgement, she risked glancing over her shoulder.

She was met by large, glowing red eyes.

Before she could react, claws dug into her calf and started dragging her backwards. Gut reaction made her yank her leg free of the skeleton’s grasp; it was a mistake. Coven screamed as the claws ripped apart flesh, muscle, and tendon.

The stalchild let out an eerie giggle before pulling back. Around it, the ground started to shift and move. Two more stalchildren began emerging as a stalhound ran up. The stalhound snarled and growled before lunging forward, intent on finish Coven off.

But it never reached its target.

Ralis cry out as Coven fell forward atop him. He pushed her upright, holding onto her shoulders. “Coven!” he loudly whispered.

“Don’t—Don’t let them know you’re here!” she hissed. She was growing weaker by the minute.

The entire area was suddenly lit up. Ralis’ eyes widen and he poked his head over his cousin’s shoulder. Behind her, he could see three piles of crushed and broken bones and a man fighting off the last stalchild. A ring of fire encircled them.

“Where did the fire come from?” he murmured aloud.

Using her last bits of strength, Coven forced herself to turn around. She couldn’t stop herself from falling back against Ralis, but she was able to see the defeat of the last stalchild. Her vision must have been worse than she thought, because it looked like the man had walked _through_ the flames as he came towards them.

Stopping just a few feet from them, he looked down at them. Coven felt Ralis cling onto her. Before either could say anything, the man reached out and, with surprising strength, lifted them both up. As her vision started to fade out, Coven could have sworn she saw a pair of wings emerge from the man’s back.

Ralis squeaked as three of them were suddenly lifted into the air. He continued to hold onto Coven, too scared to let go of her. But something was wrong— _horribly_ wrong. Coven had gone limp and he could hardly feel her breathing.

“Coven!? Coven, you got to stay awake!” he begged, trying his best to shake her. “Come on, stay awake!”

She said nothing.

He buried his face between her shoulder blades, unable to wriggle his way further up thanks to the man’s hold on them. “Come on, Coven…please hold on,” he pleaded, voice shaking. “Please…Please don’t leave me all alone. I don’t know what I’d do without you…”


	6. I'm going to regret this...

“Now where did I put that primer…?”

Ling pursed his lips in a pout as he looked around his filming desk. Normally, he was able to see _exactly_ what he needed thanks to his organized set-up. At the moment, however, he was left baffled by the disappearance of his primer. It was almost a bit upsetting; it was a brand-new pot of Lancôme waterproof eye base that had cost him a steep twenty-seven dollars.

But what really bothered him was that he was doing a live ‘Get Ready With Me’ video and he felt like he was wasting his followers’ time.

“Sorry guys,” he said, looking at the webcam in front of him. “Looks like I can’t find the primer I wanted to use so—”

The door to his room opened, drawing his attention. Zhu poked her head and a hand in, her brow raised as she read something. “Ling, is this your primer?”

His eyes widened. “Is it the Lancôme one?”

“Yeah.”

“Great! I was looking for that one!” He beckoned for her to bring it over.

She came over to him, her brow still cocked. “I don’t recommend using that one, by the way. It creases after only about two hours.”

“Somebody’s been watching make-up videos again,” he teased, taking the pot of primer from her. From the corner of his eye, he could see the chat erratically growing longer and longer.

Zhu’s brows furrowed. “No? I’ve tried it before.”

It was Ling’s turn to have a cocked brow. “… _You_ have used Lancôme eye primer?” he chuckled. He didn’t believe her in the slightest; after all, he had not _once_ seen her wear lip gloss, let alone make-up.

“Yes, but I much prefer the Primer Potion by Urban Decay. It doesn’t crease and lasts almost a full day,” she retorted, crossing her arms.

“Zhu, you know I don’t believe you, right?”

She gave him a bland look. “Obviously.” She glanced over at the monitor as someone posted in all capitals. Ling caught sight of it, too, and turned to read it.

‘DO HIS MAKEUP!!!!’

Many more comments began to flood the chat, all agreeing with the capslock-poster.

Ling snorted. “ _Zhu_? Do _my_ makeup?” he laughed. “C’mon, guys, she doesn’t—” His eyes widened as Zhu snatched up one of his brushes and opened the pot of primer. “Hey! That’s…the right brush, actually…”

“Of _course_ , it is,” she grumbled, poking the center of his forehead and making him tilt his head back. “Eyes shut.”

He closed his eyes, tensing up as he braced himself to feel the brush jabbing against his eyelid. He was more than a little surprised when he felt the brush _gently_ applying the primer. “Didn’t know you could be so gentle,” he teased again.

“Would it make you feel better if I stabbed you with the brush instead?”

“No thanks.”

“Then keep your eyes shut.”

He chuckled, though it was obvious he was nervous. “Why do I have the feeling I’m going to regret this…?”

“Because you have no faith in me,” she replied, her voice a bit lighter. She stuck her tongue out. “Ugh, I forgot that this stuff needs to warm up a bit before it blends out at all…”

The two continued to talk, Zhu occasionally reading a comment to Ling as he still had his eyes shut. Thanks to the chat, it was decided that she would do a more glam look than what he had originally planned, but it was fine with him.

Inside, however, he was terrified that he was going to come out looking like a clown or a drag queen.

There was a brief pause as Zhu, unsatisfied with the palette Ling had chosen (the fallout, she said, was horrible and none of the colors really suited Ling’s undertones), looked through his other eyeshadow palettes. He had to admit, she _did_ know her makeup brands, but anyone who watched even just a couple of make-up tutorials on Youtube could tell the difference between good quality and bad quality.

He was also surprised by how _fast_ she was working. Within five minutes, she had his eyes shadowed and lined and his lashes covered in two coats of mascara. After another five minutes, she had finished contouring his face and had even done his highlight.

“Open your mouth slightly,” she instructed, sorting through his lipsticks. He didn’t see the color she had chosen. “We should have made some sort of bet,” she said, carefully painting the lipstick into the corners of his mouth, “because if we had, I’d _totally_ be kicking your ass right now.”

“Language!” he somehow managed to say with minimal lip movement.

“Sorry.” She leaned back slightly, gently turning Ling’s head to the left and to the right as she inspected her work. Satisfied, she closed the lipstick with a small nod. “Alright, you can finally look.”

Spinning around in his chair, Ling picked up his mirror only for his jaw to drop. Not only did Zhu know how to apply makeup, but she knew how to apply it _better_ than him. Or, at least, _bolder_ than him. She had given him a glittery, gold ombre cut-crease eye with winged liner and soft, nude lips. And his highlight? Blinding.

“Holy _shit_ ,” he mumbled.

“ _Language_ ,” Zhu lightly scolded, smirking over his shoulder. “What do you think?”

He looked up at her, eyes still wide. “I think you need to teach me how to do this good of a cut-crease,” he replied. “No, but seriously: _How_ did you learn to do make-up this well?”

She shrugged. “My uncle didn’t want me to look like crap because it would reflect poorly on him.” Turning, she started to head for the door. “Anyway. I need to get going. Ting-Ting wants to take me shopping.”

Ling blinked, watching her leave. Then, rubbing the back of his neck, he chuckled and wore an apologetic smile as he looked back to the chat. “Er, sorry about the sudden video change there, guys! Hope it was still entertaining, though, watching me get put in my place like that.”


	7. I got you a present / You own my heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bair and Vithar prior to the beginning of Bair's story (which hasn't been started yet...but will be once I finish Taming a Monster). I recently decided to change their relationship status, so here's the scene where the status changes :p

“How was the mission?”

“Boring.” Bair took a drink of her hot cocoa, snuggling into Vithar’s side after he sat down. “Which is good. I’ve had too much excitement lately.”

Vithar raised his brow, a small grin on his lips. “To say the _least_ …I don’t see why they don’t just let you take a few months off. You deserve it.”

She gave him a look. “I _wish_ they’d give me a few months off. I think I’ve traveled over three thousand miles in just under four months with how much the Court’s got me running around.”

“More like _four_ thousand. You had to go all the way to Deadhorse, remember?”

A long, tired groan left her mouth. “Don’t remind me…Do you know how many shots I had to get because that Adlet might’ve had rabies? My arm _still_ hurts.”

“Can Adlet’s even get rabies…?” Shifting slightly, he wrapped an arm around Bair’s shoulders and took a drink of his wine.

“Yeah, but it isn’t as deadly to them as it is to other beings.” Sighing, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against his shoulder. “It makes them mad, but it rarely kills them.”

“Interesting…I really should collect more Inuit stories and histories. So much can be learned from them, yet Caucasians ignore them because they think it’s all hogwash.”

At that, Bair snorted. “You’re preaching to the choir here, Vithar.”

An apologetic smile came to his lips. “Sorry. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that you’re just as much of a history nerd as I am.”

She took another drink of her cocoa. “I know. I don’t get to use it as often as you.” She let out another sigh, opening her eyes to stare into the fire across from them. “I’d _love_ to be part of the research division instead of out in the field…”

“At least you’re free to visit us any time you’d like. It’s not often we’re allowed out in the field.”

“You’re a bloody dragon. You’re free to do whatever the frick ya want,” she chuckled, giving him a slight nudge with her elbow.

He grinned playfully. “Uh-oh, I’m bringing out your Irish again.”

Rolling her eyes, she lightly smacked his knee. “Arsehead.”

Chuckling, he used his foot to bring over an ottoman so he could rest his legs on it. “So, not to change the subject or anything, but I was thinking about something the other day.”

“Oh?” She drank the last of her cocoa, letting Vithar take the empty cup from her.

“I was in Black Moon a few days ago and I saw I that the abandoned house on the edge of town finally got sold.”

“Did it really?” She somewhat frowned. “Damn it. It’s probably going to some developer who just wants the land it’s on…”

He shrugged. “Not what I heard. I heard it was bought by a guy as a present for his soon-to-be wife.”

“That sounds a _lot_ better,” she chuckled, wrapping both her arms around his torso. Snuggling into him, she closed her eyes and let out a content sigh. “Though, that place needs a _lot_ of work.”

“Mhm. I’ve watched enough Property Brothers to know that it’s going to cost a couple hundred grand to even get it _livable_.” Lifting his hand, he started running his fingers through her hair. “But I’m sure it’ll be worth it. That house has good bones. And the yard is huge. I wouldn’t doubt there’ll be some sort of garden there in the next few years.”

“It’ll be nice to look at when it’s all cleaned up.” She cracked open an eye as she felt Vithar pull a blanket from the back of the couch and drape it around her shoulders.

He kissed the top of her head. “Didn’t you say once that you had wanted that house?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s one of the few houses still standing from Black Moon’s heyday. Technically, it’s actually a mansion. Some of the original details like the crown molding, the wainscoting, and the stair rails were still around and they were _gorgeous_ , even if they were covered in grime.”

Vithar cocked a brow. “How do you know? It said no trespassing.”

An innocent grin came to her lips. “I…may have broken in a few times on dares before I had to drop out of high school.”

“Ahh…sleep overs in the old creepy house to prove your bravery?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t do much sleeping, though. I was too caught up in exploring. The place has an _amazing_ conservatory. Some of the plants are still thriving in there, though they’ve kind of taken over and have rotted parts of the floor.”

He chuckled. “You sound like you really liked that place.”

“Yeah…But even then, I knew I’d probably never be able to afford it. Like you said, so much has to be done to even make it livable. Even with my current salary, it’d take me _years_ to save enough money to redo a house like that.” She nestled against his chest, feeling his fingers stroking her shoulder through the blanket.

“If you _did_ have the money, what would you have done to it?”

Her brow rose, though she kept her eyes shut. “Why?”

He shrugged. “It just sounds like you had everything you wanted to fix already planned out.”

Bair let out another sigh, though it had a hint of laughter to it. “Restore the outside to its former glory was at the top of my list. Especially that front porch. Imagine the Halloween decorations you could put up with a covered porch like that!”

“I bet I could sneak a birthday cake somewhere in there and you wouldn’t notice,” teased Vithar.

“You probably could,” she agreed, smiling. “But, gods…I couldn’t list everything I’d want to do to the place. Ugh, wait, _no_ white cabinets or countertops.” She stuck her tongue out, making Vithar laugh.

“Why are you so against white cabinets?”

“They’re too sterile. They remind me of hospitals. I’ve been in and out of the hospital so many times the last ten years, I’ve had my fill of white cabinets.”

“Then what color _would_ you have?”

“Grey, black, or a dark wood.”

“Should have known. Let me guess -bright green and orange accents?”

She laughed. “I may like my _hair_ bright, but if ever I owned a house, I’d make sure it would be calm and soothing colors.” She then opened her eyes and looked up at him. “You been binge-watching HGTV again? Last time you did that, you got obsessed with the idea of bathroom spas.”

He pouted. “Hey, you _enjoy_ my spa-like bathroom.”

“I will admit that huge tub of yours _is_ nice,” she giggled. “Those jets are _amazing_ after a rough mission. But your shower is just _excessive_. You _don’t_ need to watch TV while washing yourself.”

“Hey. I _like_ watching Good Morning America while exfoliating.”

Bair cracked up only to let out a small shriek of laughter as Vithar suddenly lifted her up. He pulled her onto his lap and buried his face in the crook of her neck, making playful ‘angry’ noises at her. She squirmed, giggling as she tried to escape, but he held fast.

After some minutes, they both calmed down. Bair rested her chin atop Vithar’s head, between his antlers. He kept his face buried in her neck, enjoying the warmth of her body against his.

“I love you,” he said, voice muffled by her skin.

“I love you, too,” she replied, fingers caressing the scales along his temple.

A moment of quiet again fell between them.

“Hey, Bair…?” Vithar asked, once more breaking the silence.

“Hmm?”

“I got you a present.”

Expecting him to blow a raspberry against her neck or him to start tickling her, she cocked a brow. “Oh?” She did her best to ready herself for whatever silly thing he was about to do.

“I bought that house. For you.”

_That_ she hadn’t expected him to say.

Leaning back, she looked down at him with a confused frown. “What did you say?”

He looked up at her, nothing but love and adoration written on his face. “I bought you that house. And it’s going to get completely redone however _you_ want.”

Her jaw moved, but no words left her mouth and parts of her hair slowly started turning purple at the roots thanks to her confusion. “You…you did _what_?” she finally managed to say.

Vithar gently took her hands in his, entwining their fingers. “Bought you the house.”

She shook her head. “Vithar, no—I know you like to spoil me, but a _house_? _And_ a full remodel? That’s just—that’s just too much!”

A quiet laugh left his mouth. “I knew you’d say that.”

“Vithar, I’m _serious_ ,” she said, trying to sound as firm as possible. “Yes, I’ve wanted that house, but…but you don’t just _buy_ your girlfriend a house and a remodel for no reason like this!”

His brow rose and a teasing smirk came to his face. “Now when did I ever say I did this for no reason?” he questioned. “I have a perfectly good reason for buying it.” He knew she would react this way, but he didn’t anticipate how adorable he’d find her as she pouted at him with her confused, multicolored hair.

“And what reason could that possibly be?!”

“You own my heart.”

Bair let out a semi-frustrated sigh and ran her hand through her hair. “Vithar, I know—”

“No,” he interrupted. He unblinkingly stared into her eyes. “ _You own my heart_ ,” he repeated, taking one of her hands and bringing it to rest on his chest. He watched as she looked down at their hands, her brows furrowed somewhat.

A look of realization slowly overcame her features as the meaning of his words dawned on her. She looked up at him, her hair now a white as snow. “I’m…I’m your life-mate?” she whispered.

He nodded.

“Are you—are you sure?”

“Entirely.”

She fell silent, continuing to stare at him in shock.

He looked down at her hands, letting his thumbs caress her calloused palms. “I know it’s a rather unorthodox way of proposing,” he told her, voice quiet, “but I know jewelry can be dangerous at times for you. I thought about using a book you’ve been wanting, but then I saw that a developer _was_ in talks to buy the house. I knew how much you loved that place even before you told me about it just now.”

“How?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Every time we went by it, you would look at it with such _longing_. And the fact alone that it’s the oldest house in Black Moon.” He looked up at a droplet of water fell onto the back of his hand. Looking up at her, he saw tears soaking her cheeks. “With that all said…will you make me the happiest dragon in the world and marry me?”

She let out a mixture of a laugh and a sob. “Only if I don’t have to have a TV in my shower.”

He grinned broadly. “Just a self-flushing toilet.”

Again, she let out a sob-laugh and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him. “I’m fine with that.”


	8. Why did you spare me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THIS DRABBLE CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR DAUGHTER OF DEATH AND DAUGHTER OF REBIRTH. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Zhu felt like she was floating. For all she knew, she _could_ have been floating; there was nothing above her and nothing below her. All was just…white.

But then, something—no, some _one_ —started to materialize in front of her. A beautiful woman with long, jet-black hair and skin paler than the moon. Her eyes glowed with an ethereal fire that sent a shiver down Zhu’s spine. The dress she wore hung loosely over her body, weighed down only by the feathers sewn into it.

She was unfamiliar to Zhu’s eyes, yet somehow, her presence _felt_ familiar.

“I am sorry I could not better protect you,” the woman said. Her voice echoed around them in the nothingness. “I did what I could, but it was not enough.”

Zhu frowned. “What do you mean…? Who are you?”

The woman closed her eyes, a small, sad smile coming to her lips. “Ah, yes…you have never seen me in this form, have you? No, I don’t suppose you have. I did my best to remain inconspicuous to protect us both from Hayabusa. Let me take on a more familiar form.” She spun around, her human form shifting into that of an animal.

Zhu gasped, her eyes wide. “U—Umut?” she whispered, watching as the woman took on her human form once again.

She nodded, still smiling. “Yes,” she replied.

“But—But I saw you—” She clenched her eyes shut for a few seconds before opening them once more. Everything was still white and the woman still before her. “I saw you get _killed_.”

“You saw my _host_ get killed,” she corrected. “ _I_ cannot be killed by the likes of Bleda and Mundzuc—that is to say, mere mortals.”

Zhu was silent; she had always known something had been different about her beloved mare, but she never knew _what._ “Does this mean you’re a-”

“Demon?” she interrupted. “No. I am a spirit of the earth.”

“A spirit…? So—so why did you choose me?”

She tilted her head ever so slightly. “I did not ‘choose’ you—at least, when I first came to you, I didn’t. No. I came to you because it was your father’s dying wish.”

Zhu’s eyes widened. “Sh-Shan Da _wished_ you to me?”

“Yes.” Umut started to slowly float in a circle around Zhu. “You were probably never told of this, but your father had struck a deal with a demon as well. But his demon, Lilitu, was greedy and wanted more than what Shan Da could offer her. She wanted to devour his firstborn child. The souls of children are the purest of souls of all and demons _love_ to eat souls.

“But Shan Da refused and Lilitu became enraged. Knowing she couldn’t take Shan Da’s life herself and devour his soul, she left in hopes of finding a way to kill him indirectly. Your father, knowing what he had done, called upon the spirits of protection, but no one would come to him because of his corrupted soul.”

“Except you.”

“Except me.” She stopped her circling, though her hair continued to drift to the side. “Even now, I am not certain _why_ I came to him, but when I appeared to him and he spoke to me, I knew his words were honest. He only wanted for me to keep you safe from Lilitu. Seeing how young you were at the time—barely four years old—I consented. A year later, Lilitu returned.”

Zhu let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “She brought Fa Zhou to the camp.”

Umut nodded, her sorrowful smile returning. “It was such a horrible night. Lilitu and Hayabusa gorged themselves on all the souls that died that night.” She shook her head, a sigh passing her lips. “But I was able to protect _you_. And when the morning rose and your father found dead, I knew I had fulfilled my end of our deal.”

“What had my father promised you?”

“Nothing more than his eternal gratitude. I wouldn’t accept anything more. I didn’t _want_ anything more.”

Swallowing hard, Zhu furrowed her brows. “So…why, then, did you come back to me?”

At that, a mischievous smile appeared on the spirit’s lips. “Why indeed?” she questioned, intrigue in her voice. “Sometimes, Shan Zhu, we do things without knowing why. And that is what happened the day I took that foal as my host. Perhaps I wanted to see how you would grow and change? Or maybe I was bored?” She shrugged. “Not even the gods know why.”

Zhu was silent, her mind racing with all this new information. It was so much to take in. Not only was her mare actually a spirit, but one who had already saved her life once before. And to know that her father had been killed by a vengeful demon who had wanted _her_ soul in addition to his make her stomach twist into knots.

After what felt like years, she finally spoke. “Does this mean that Hayabusa is also still alive?”

Umut shook her head. “No. I do not know exactly why it is you were able to truly kill him. I prefer to stay away from things involving demonic knowledge. But I would assume it is because demons are of the same plane of existence as mortals.” She gave Zhu an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t know much of spirits and demons, so this must be confusing for you.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m glad to know Hayabusa is _actually_ dead.” She then glanced away from Umut. “Does…does your presence here mean I’m dead, too?”

“Quite the opposite. You are still very much alive, but only _just_.” Umut floated over to Zhu, taking her face in her hands. As had happened so many times before, a wave of calmness washed over her. “While I am in this form, I can only do so much in the mortal world. But, with a great deal of concentration and a favor or two from some wind spirits, I was able to spare your life.”

“But why? Why did you spare my life?” Zhu asked, frowning. “You know how horrible a person I was. You know how great my body count is…you know how I hurt my friends.” She closed her eyes, swallowing hard. “There is a reason I held onto my uncle as that firework flew at us. I don’t—I don’t deserve to live.”

“What _you_ think you deserve and what the _universe_ thinks you deserve are two entirely different things.” She pulled Zhu closer to her, holding her against her breast. “I gave you a second chance for a reason, Shan Zhu, and that reason is to start anew. But it is not without consequence. I may have kept you from death, but your body still bears horrid injuries.”

Zhu cringed. “What…kind of injuries?” she dared to ask, looking up at Umut’s face only to find her expression grim.

“The worst of them will hinder your ability to hunt, to walk, to ride…Many things that you found joy in will only cause grief for you now. Unless…” She leaned back somewhat, her expression changing to one of mischief. “My dearest Shan Zhu, are you willing to make a deal with me?”


	9. So many dumplings...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, this drabble was meant to be a smut drabble. But, being that I can't write smut to save my life and this was turning out just too cute, i ended up making it a simple, cute drabble.
> 
> Fandom: Mulan, modern!au  
> Pairing: Mulan/Zhu, mentions of Mulan/Zhu/Ling

“Mulan, I’m back!” Zhu called out, closing the condo door behind her. She locked the door before leaning against it to start untying her boots.

“You were gone longer than I thought you’d be.” Coming around the corner, Mulan paused as she saw the soaking-wet Zhu standing near the door. “…What happened?” she asked, a concerned frown on her face.

Glancing up at her, Zhu gave her a tired expression. “I fixed Qi’s car,” she explained. “And, before you ask, _yes_ , in the pouring rain.” Once her shoes were off, she headed down the hall. As she passed by Mulan, she leaned over and kissed her forehead. “He thought his transmission blew out, but it turns out he had just run out of coolant.”

“How did he get those two mixed up…?” She followed Zhu to the laundry room, where she leaned against the doorframe.

“It was dark, he was freaking out, and his car is _old_.” Shrugging off her jacket and shirt, Zhu wrung them out over the sink before dumping them in the washer. “But, like I said, I got it fixed fox him. He said he’ll buy me lunch to repay the debt.”

She chuckled, her brow rising. “A fair tradeoff, considering you almost had to drive him home.” Her cheeks turned a bit pink when she realized she had let her eyes linger a bit too long on the giant burn scar covering the entirety of Zhu’s back.

“I told him that him getting home safe was all I cared about.” She let out a sigh, dropping her pants before also wringing them out. “But now all I care about is getting a nice, hot shower…”

A frown suddenly came to Mulan’s face. “Uh…about that…” She rubbed the back of her neck and looked away as Zhu stared at her. “The building’s water is going to be shut off for a few hours starting at ten,” she explained. “They’re finally installing the new filtration system.”

At that, Zhu frowned. “What time is it now?”

She pulled out her phone, checking the time. “Nine-forty.”

Zhu sighed. “It’ll be a short shower, but it’ll still be nice to warm up.”

She nodded in agreement, tucking her phone away. “And here’s to hoping they install the thing _right_ this time. Remember last time and how the water was off for almost an entire _day_?” She glanced back at Zhu, somewhat biting her lip when she noticed that the dampness of her bra made the fabric somewhat transparent.

“Except that was the heaters for the hot water,” Zhu yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

“True.” She forced herself to look away and shrug. “But, like I said, so long as they install it right the first time. I’ll need to take a shower in the morning and I’d like to take it in my own home instead of at the gym…”

Zhu cocked her head. “Why didn’t you shower before I got home…?”

“I only got home about ten minutes ago.” She smiled guiltily. “I got roped into helping my mom and grandma make _almost_ a literal ton of dumplings today. On the plus side, though, we now have an assortment of dumplings and sauces in the freezer. We’ll never go hungry again!”

A tired laugh left Zhu’s mouth. “I was wondering why you had white streaks in your hair. Now I know why.”

Mulan pouted and pulled her hair over her shoulder. There were, indeed, streaks of dried flour and even a few pieces of green onion in her hair. “Ugh. If I had known my hair was like _this_ , I _would_ have showered…”

“We could just take a shower together,” Zhu suggested. She walked past Mulan, heading for the linen closet down the hall.

She blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. “…Wh-what?” she asked, her cheeks slowly beginning to turn pink.

“We could shower together,” Zhu repeated, opening the closet door.

“But…” She bit her lower lip and rubbed the back of her neck again. “Are you sure you’d be comfortable with that?”

“Only if you’d be comfortable with it.” Pulling out a couple of towels, she looked over at Mulan, concern written on her face. “…I didn’t make _you_ uncomfortable by bringing that up, did I?”

Mulan blinked before smiling reassuringly. “No. I was only a bit surprised you suggested it is all.”

Zhu offered her one of the towels. “It makes sense, though, doesn’t it? We both want to shower, we only have a limited time, and we’ve only got one _good_ shower in this condo…And I _am_ your girlfriend. It shouldn’t be _too_ odd, should it?” There was a small, shy smile on her lips—a look Mulan rarely saw.

But it made her smile. Taking the towel, she nodded in agreement. “It should be fine,” she told her, standing on tiptoes to kiss her chin. “Especially since it means I can make sure you don’t use my bodywash.”

“I told you, it was _Ling_ who used it!”

“Then why were _you_ the one smelling like peonies and almonds?” Mulan teased, glancing over her shoulder as she headed into the bathroom.

Her cheeks turned a bit pink as she pouted. “Because we cuddled after his shower.”

Giggling, Mulan rolled her eyes and turned the shower on. “Alright, alright…I’d like to keep teasing you, but that is just _far_ too logical of an answer,” she chuckled. She then let out a small sigh and started to undress. “When does he come back from his convention?”

“Friday.” She scrunched her nose up as she attempted to take her bra off by pulling it over her head. Thanks to being wet, however, it rolled up awkwardly and got stuck around her shoulders.

Reaching over, Mulan undid the clasp for her. “Only three more days?” She involuntarily shivered as her skin was exposed to the air. “At least we won’t have _much_ longer to wait.”

Zhu’s brow rose as she chuckled. “Missing our dork, are you?”

She jokingly smacked Zhu’s shoulder. “Oh, don’t give me that. I know you’re missing him just as much.”

“Me? Missing our boyfriend? _Never_.” She let Mulan step into the shower first before joining her. As the warm water hit her skin, a shiver ran down her spine and drew a small groan from her mouth.

“Well, I know he’s certainly missing _us_ ,” she smiled, getting her hair soaked. “He video called me earlier while I was at my parents’ place. Apparently, he’s having a great time and he’s bought us a _lot_ of presents.”

“I thought we told him some chocolate would be fine?”

“Knowing him, the presents are almost entirely chocolate.” She started to lather up her hair; through the floral scent of her shampoo, she was able to make out a deeper, earthy scent and knew Zhu was starting to wash herself. “Which I don’t mind. The Swiss have _amazing_ chocolate.”

“That they do,” she agreed with a chuckle. “…So…you’ve told your parents about the three of us, then?” She watched as Mulan’s shoulders heaved with a sigh.

“I…kind of had to after that video call,” she admitted. “I didn’t get the chance to warn Ling where I was at and, of course, he greeted me with a ‘there’s one of my beautiful girlfriends!’”

“Who does your dad want to kill more: Me or Ling?”

“Neither, actually. He and mom were more upset that I didn’t tell them right away about ‘us’. But they understood _why_ I didn’t tell them right away.” Turning around, she tilted her head back and started rinsing her hair. “It’s not very common for a daughter to be dating both a man and a woman, after all…”

“At least you told them,” Zhu sighed. “I…still haven’t told my mother.”

“Have you told the Emperor?”

At that, Zhu let out a sarcastic laugh. “I am _not_ going to tell him,” she retorted, voice taking on a darker tone. “Soon as he finds out there’s something left in the world that makes me happy, he’ll find a way to ruin it.”

Mulan looked up at her, a pitying look on her face. “You know we wouldn’t let him,” she assured her. Reaching over, she wrapped her arms around Zhu’s neck and pulled her closer. “After how hard Ling and I worked to get you, there’s _no_ way we’re letting someone try to break us apart.” Standing on tiptoe, she placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

Zhu wrapped her arms around Mulan, holding her protectively. “And if he so much as _thinks_ about doing something to the two of you,” she murmured against Mulan’s lips, “I won’t hesitate to make him regret it.”

Mulan shivered as Zhu’s voice, already deep for a woman’s, got even deeper. “Let’s talk about happier things,” she murmured, starting to kiss along her jaw. “Have you had dinner?”

“No,” she murmured, burying her face in the crook of her neck. “Sounds like I’m going to have dumplings, though. What kinds did you make?”

“All sorts. They’re all labeled, so you won’t have to search _too_ hard.” She let out a small, content sigh. “Mom made sure to send extra pork dumplings, by the way.”

Zhu smiled. “I _love_ her pork dumplings.”

“That’s why there’s extra,” she chuckled. “She also sent plenty of bean paste dumplings for Ling.”

“Mmm…they may be gone before he gets back.”

She giggled, her brow rising. “You can’t hog _all_ the dumplings,” she teasingly scolded. “There are well over two hundred of them!”

Leaning back, Zhu stared down at her with wide, confused eyes. “ _What_?!”

Mulan nodded, still giggling. “I told you we made almost a literal ton.”

Zhu opened her mouth to counter, but both women suddenly let out yelps as the warm water suddenly turned freezing cold. Not ten seconds later, the water stopped entirely.

“Th-that fifteen minutes passed quickly,” Mulan half giggled, half shivered.

Brows furrowing, Zhu shoved back the shower curtain and, reaching over the toilet towards the sink, she grabbed Mulan’s phone. “The jerks turned the water off early,” she said. “It’s only nine fifty-five.”


	10. Why are you crying?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Done for a tumblr drabble prompt. Characters requested were Qi and Zhu.

The hall was _packed_ with people.

Qi stood off to one side of the hall, smiling as he watched his brother and his new sister-in-law talk with the Emperor and Empress. Ting-Ting’s parents both had red eyes from crying, but they wore large smiles as they hugged their eldest daughter and Ling, their new son-in-law. Nearby, Yao and Chien-Po were sitting with Mei and Su, chatting happily with one another as they drank some liquor. Or maybe it was tea. He couldn’t tell.

More than once, he had been approached by some member of Ting-Ting’s family—who made up the majority of guests, as he and Ling didn’t have any family. They would strike up a bit of conversation with him, asking him what it was like to be the Emperor’s best scout and how he felt about his brother getting married. The elders would always manage to drop subtle hints that they had daughters or granddaughters who were of the marrying age if he just so happened to be in the market.

The first five times such hints had been given, he had found it amusing. But they soon grew tedious and he found himself having to force laughter as he pretended to take the offers into consideration. It wasn’t like he could out-right refuse their offerings—they were relatives of the Emperor of China, after all. Such a thing would bring his family dishonor for _centuries_.

Not that he had family aside from Ling. Yao and Chien-Po were like his brothers, yes, but they weren’t related by blood. They would be saved from any dishonor he may possibly bring.

After what seemed like the hundredth elder finally hobbled away, he snuck out of the hall. For him, it had grown uncomfortably warm and a breath of fresh air was much-needed. He made his way to the gardens; any guards he passed by gave him acknowledging nods and let him walk freely. They knew him well enough—they had been trainees together.

Stepping out into the gardens, he breathed a sigh of relief; it was _much_ cooler out here. Making things even cooler was a late-spring rain that brought forth a pleasant petrichor. He breathed the scent in deeply before slowly exhaling.

Yes, he thought. It felt much better out here.

Standing still for many minutes, Qi let the sounds of rain fill his ears. Through the sounds of rain on leaves and on water, however, another sound was just barely audible: Crying. He frowned.

Who would be crying on such a happy day?

He followed the sound, not caring about the rain that soaked him as a stone path took him to the pond. Standing at the end of the bridge, he found the pavilion occupied by someone. A small lantern, sitting on the floor, broadcasted their silhouette against the paper windows. Who it was, though, he couldn’t tell.

Cautiously, Qi approached the doorway of the pavilion. He poked his head into the structure, his eyes widening when he realized who was crying.

“Zhu?” he said, unable to stop himself.

She looked up, startled by his voice; her eyes, not their usual black, fruitlessly searched for him. “Qi?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” He moved to sit beside her, taking care to not take her by further surprise. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

She shook her head and ‘looked’ away from him. “It’s nothing. You should be inside with the others. At the party.”

“I needed some fresh air,” he replied. “And clearly, whatever’s made _you_ cry isn’t just ‘nothing’.” Reaching over, he set his hand on her shoulder, feeling her flinch under his touch. “Zhu…?”

“I’m a Hun,” she whispered, voice wavering, “and Huns aren’t welcomed to Imperial weddings…even if they’re related to the bride.”

He frowned. “What?! Who told you that!?”

Her eyes glanced in his direction. Though she said nothing, he knew the answer.

Letting out a sigh, Qi wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a small squeeze. “I’m guessing he also had Umut taken out of range to ensure you couldn’t spy on the ceremony?”

She nodded, her jaw shaking. “I had—I had to feign being ill so Ting-Ting and Ling wou-wouldn’t get suspicious,” she choked out. “I sho-should have just left th-the moment the-they announ-nounced their engagem-ment.” She let Qi pull her against his form and cradle her. “I sho-should have _left_. Getting—Getting letters every fe-few years would be le-less painful than all thi-this hell _he’s_ put-putting me through…”

Qi closed his eyes and rested his chin atop her head. He said nothing, knowing that there were no words that could end her suffering. He wished he could know why the Emperor hated Zhu so much and how he could be so cruel to her, yet be so kind and loving to his people. Yes, Zhu was a Hun—but she was only _half_ Hun.

“It’s not fair to you,” he murmured. “It’s not fair to you at all.”


	11. You need sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another angst/fluff drabble prompt from tumblr. Pairing: Mulan/Zhu

It was late—or maybe it was early? She couldn’t tell. Mulan only knew that it was past midnight and she couldn’t sleep for longer than a few minutes at a time. She wasn’t sure why; she was _exhausted_. It was the good sort of exhaustion, however, earned after a long day of fun and laughter.

Something—no, some _one_ —shifted beside her. A tender smile came to her lips as she looked down. Zhu was snuggled up beside her, fast asleep and covered only by the bed’s thin sheet. Mulan was surprised by how… _harmless_ Zhu looked; but then again, she had seen an entirely different side of her that night. Her cheeks flushed at the memory, though it made her smile turn coy.

Who would have guessed that the fearsome Shan Zhu could be made to whimper so helplessly?

Carefully, Mulan moved her arm so that it was wrapped around the other woman. Her fingers slowly combed through her long hair before tracing the small of her back. Zhu’s breath seemed to catch in her throat before leaving her mouth as a soft sigh. She tiredly opened her eyes and looked up at Mulan.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Mulan frowned.

“It’s fine,” Zhu murmured, closing her eyes again and nuzzling into Mulan’s shoulder. “Why are you still awake?”

“I’m not sure.” She sighed before rolling onto her side, making sure to keep the sheet over her chest. “I’m exhausted, but I also feel wide awake—if that makes any sense.”

“It does.” Opening her eyes a second time, she met Mulan’s gaze; at least, she _thought_ she met her gaze. The dimness of the room made it hard to tell. “Sometimes, a person is just _too_ tired and the delirium of exhaustion is what’s keeping them awake. Other times, it’s excitement. Most of the time, however, a person can’t sleep simply because they have too many thoughts running through their mind and they can’t seem to—to turn them off, so to say.”

Mulan slowly nodded. “Then it’s probably that last one.” She let out a small chuckle. “…There’s been a _lot_ on my mind lately. Tonight’s been no exception.”

Zhu felt her cheeks grow dark and her stomach churned slightly; she wondered if Mulan regretted what had transpired between them earlier. “Oh?”

Relief swept through her as Mulan scooted closer to steal a lingering kiss. “I’m sure you’ve had some of the same thoughts lately,” she quietly said. Lifting her hand, she traced the line of Zhu’s jaw.

“It’s hard not to.” Raising her own hand, she took Mulan’s hand before brushing her lips across her knuckles. “Especially with everything that’s been going on…It’s like everything changed overnight.”

“In a way, it did.”

“…Do you regret any of it…?”

Mulan frowned. “Why would I?”

Zhu shrugged, releasing her hand. “You could have been a general’s wife. He would be able to give you everything you wanted for the rest of your life and you could have been comfortable and happy. Instead, you chose to come after me: The chieftain of a disgraced and dying people.” She was silenced by another kiss.

“You know damn well _why_ I chose you,” she whispered against her lips.

Feeling her arms wrap around her waist, Zhu allowed herself to be pulled against the smaller woman. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I _understand_ your reasoning.”

“You don’t need to.” She nuzzled her nose against her cheek. “We can talk more in the morning. You need sleep.”

“As do you.”

Mulan quietly giggled, but said nothing as she nestled her head in the crook of Zhu’s neck.


	12. Don't be scared; I'm right here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another tumblr prompt. Characters are Gobber the Belch and my httyd oc, Thora Gobbersdotter/Gretasdotter

The flash of lightning didn’t wake him. The boom of thunder didn’t stir him. But the tiny, helpless wail that followed made him bolt upright in bed.

Gobber peered around the room, his eyes trying to adjust with the next flash of lightning. Thunder rattled the house a second time and, once again, there was a wail. His heart calmed; it was just a storm.

Not a dragon attack.

As the wailing continued, he threw back his blanket and, after nearly forgetting to put on his peg-leg, he made his way across the room. Fumbling with a flint and steel, he managed to get a lantern lit. He then hobbled over to the wall, where the source of wailing was coming from.

Lifting up the lantern, the meager amount of light spilled out and managed to illuminate the area _just_ enough to let him see the thrashing, crying infant inside the crib.

“Aw, my wee lovey…” He hung the lantern from a hook in the wall before scooping up the child. “Is Thor hurtin’ your wee lil’ ears with all his noise makin’?”

The baby sniffled and let out a whine as she was cradled close to her father’s chest. More thunder sounded and she wailed again. Her tiny fists tried to cover her ears, but thanks to not quite knowing how to work her limbs yet, she only succeeded in beating herself.

“Shh, shh,” Gobber cooed, using the stump of his left arm to hold her while he used his hand to gently cover her ears. When he did so, he felt something wrap around his wrist—her tail. “It’s alright, lovey. Daddy’s gotcha. Shhh. I’ve gotcha.” As careful as he could, he started to lightly bounce her, knowing that it usually calmed her down. “Don’t be scared, Thora. I’m right here. Daddy ain’t goin’ t’ let ya suffer through the big, mean storm on your own.”

For nearly half an hour, the storm continued to rage. The child whined and wailed and sniffled despite Gobber’s best efforts to block out the sound of the thunder. It was of little use; her trollish ears could still hear the thunder. Regardless, Gobber continued to cradle her against his chest, not caring when his head began to ache. He did, however, sit down on his bed; it was far too early to be walking around.

Eventually, the storm faded away and Thora finally grew quiet. Soon enough, she was producing teeny-tiny snores, earning a sigh of relief from her father. He stood up and carried her back across the room. With the utmost gentleness, he laid her back down in her crib.

‘Funny,’ he thought, wiping his brow with his stump. ‘You’d think being named after the thunder god, she’d be more fond of storms…’ Shaking his head, he returned to bed, knowing that Thora would sleep well into the morning after this.

 


	13. What the hell were you thinking?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Disney's Ling; my oc, Shan Zhu

Ling quietly hissed in pain as his back filled with a stinging pain. He clenched his eyes shut, able to hear the bubbling of the hydrogen peroxide as it cleaned his wounds. Despite wanting to swear aloud, he managed to keep his mouth shut, choosing to instead grip the seat of the stool.

Behind him, Zhu’s brows were furrowed in worry as she dabbed away the blood and dirt covering his back. She reached over with a glove-clad hand and grabbed some gauze and medical tape. Most of the scratches were minor and only needed cleaning, but there was a nasty bit on his shoulder where the first few layers of skin had been torn away.

Folding the gauze, she spread some antibacterial cream on it before placing it over the patch of missing skin. Before she could do much else, Ling lurched forward as he yelped in pain. The gauze fell from his shoulder, landing cream-side down on the floor and earning a frustrated sigh from Zhu. Shaking her head, she picked it up and threw it in the garbage before starting to fold up a fresh, sterile piece of gauze.

“Do you _have_ to use that stuff?” he asked. “It really hurts.”

“It hurts because it’s doing its job,” she told him, voice dry. “And _yes_ , I have to use it. You’re not supposed to use hydrogen peroxide or rubbing alcohol on this kind of wound.”

He yelped again as she set the second piece of gauze on his shoulder; this time, however, she made sure to hold it in place as he jerked forward. “Ow! Will you stop that?” he grumbled, feeling her taping the gauze in place. “It’s _got_ to be clean by now…”

“If you didn’t want to be in pain, then you shouldn’t have gotten yourself beat up!” she suddenly snapped. She yanked off one of the gloves before crumpling it in her still-gloved palm. “What the hell were you even thinking? I had _everything_ under control!” The second glove came off over the first before landing in the trash.

“Oh, _I’m sorry_ ,” he retorted, voice heavy with sarcasm. “I wasn’t aware that being pinned against a wall with a knife to your throat meant that everything was under control.” He stood up, turning around to face her.

“I was _acting_. I was trying to get information out of the guy, but _someone_ decided to play hero and get himself nearly killed!” Snatching up Ling’s shirt, she angrily threw it at his face. “Those idiots could have known where Mundzuc is hiding! But now I’ll never know—and, if they _did_ know, they’re going to warn him that I’m looking for him!” Her eyes starting to sting, she stormed out of the bathroom.

Ling stiffly pulled his shirt on as he followed after her. “Why does he even matter so much?” he demanded. “He was one of your uncle’s top men; I’d be trying my best to _avoid_ him if I were you!” He was glad the others weren’t home; the last thing Zhu needed was Chien-Po trying to calm her down or Yao offering to help her beat something up.

She stopped in the doorway of her bedroom. “That’s _why_ I need to find him,” she told him. “I need to find him so I can be rid of him once and for all.”

He paused. “You don’t mean…”

As she glanced over her shoulder, Ling could see tears staining her cheeks. “Yes, I _do_ mean. You have _no_ idea the kind of dirt he has on me, Ling. Think of how much he could use that information against me.” Clenching her eyes shut, she shook her head. “I can’t—I can’t let him do that. Not now. Not when—Not when things have finally started going _right_ for me.”

 


	14. Thigh high stockings and garter belts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Disney's Ling; Disney's Mulan; my oc, Shan Zhu

“What about these ones? They’ve got the cute little bows you like.”

“Hmm…They _are_ cute, but those bows look like they’d fall off after the first wash, even if you wash them in a delicates’ bag.”

“True…Then how about these ones? No bows, but still cute.”

“Ooh! Those _are_ cute! Zhu, what do you think?”

Zhu looked up, eyes wide as she was startled out of her thoughts. Across from her were Ling and Mulan, each holding a couple packages of stockings. “Sorry, what?” she asked, letting go of the dress she had been inspecting.

Ling lightly wiggled a package of deep-blue stockings that had small, white flowers printed all over them. “What do you think of these?” he asked.

“They’re cute. They’d go with your navy halter dress.”

“You mean _my_ navy halter dress,” Mulan chuckled, her brow rising.

Zhu watched as an innocent smile came to Ling’s mouth. “It’s hard keeping track of what belongs to who,” she admitted. “You two practically wear the same size.”

“Nothing says someone’s in a happy relationship than when they know their clothes have become the communal property of them and their girlfriends,” Ling chirped, going back to sorting through the stockings.

Mulan smiled, shaking her head. “More like, ‘Nothing says _Ling’s_ in a happy relationship when he knows he can steal his girlfriends’ clothes and they’re fine with it’,” she teased.

“And you two are free to steal my clothes whenever you like,” he grinned.

Zhu cocked a brow. “Mulan can,” she countered. “You’re too scrawny for me to wear any of your clothes. Also…do either of you have a garter belt?”

“A garter belt?” Mulan asked, her cheeks turning a bit pink. She had only ever thought of garter belts as lingerie—something to be worn in the bedroom. “No.”

Ling wore a frown as a look of realization hit him. “Hm. Mine’s too worn out. Thanks for reminding me, love.”

“Wh-why is it important if we need garter belts?” Mulan asked, cheeks dark red by now.

“To hold up your stockings.” Zhu looked over at her, a brow raised. “Otherwise they constantly roll down.”

Mulan blinked. “You…mean garter belts can be used every day?” she asked. “Not just for—not just for lingerie?”

Ling and Zhu both stared at her, stunned. They then looked at each other, with Ling giving Zhu a single nod. Walking forward, Zhu plucked the stockings from Mulan’s hands, handed them to Ling, and started to steer her away.

“See you in the food court!” Ling called after them. “Find her some cute ones!”

 


	15. Red wine stained lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Mundzuc (better known as long-haired member of Shan Yu's elite); my oc, Shan Zhu

He couldn’t stop staring at her.

He knew he should have been paying attention to the people around him and the conversations they were having. It was his job to eavesdrop, to listen in and hear things that weren’t supposed to be heard. More often than not, it wasn’t just his job on the line to hear these secrets, but also his life.

Raising the glass of champagne to his lips, he took a sip and forced himself to look away from the woman. He slowly began making his way through the room, trying to look as casual as possible. Everyone around him was dressed in expensive clothes and covered in jewelry that was even more expensive.

Typical for the wealthy, he thought, displaying their wealth while at an event meant to benefit the less fortunate. Of course, these people were only doing it for tax write-offs and to improve their reputations. They had no intentions of _really_ helping people and some of the things he was able to overhear proved that.

He stole a quick glance around the room. The woman had seemingly disappeared. He wondered if she had simply gone to the bathroom or if she had left the event entirely.

Finishing his champagne, he placed the glass on the tray of a passing server. He made his way towards the back of the massive room, where three sets of doors led out onto the veranda and the garden. Though he knew not many people would be outside—it was the middle of winter—he needed a breath of fresh air.

Just as he expected, hardly anyone had dared to venture outside. With his hands in his pockets, he made his way across the snow-covered patio and down the steps. He wondered why the guests were so scared of coming outside; the sky was clear and filled with the stars and it wasn’t even that cold.

“I thought I would find you out here, Mundzuc.”

He stopped in his tracks, brows furrowing. Turning around, he found the woman from earlier standing just a few yards away. “Shan Zhu.”

For a moment, neither spoke a word. Instead, they looked one another over, taking in just how much they had changed over the last ten years. But neither had really changed—at least, not outwardly.

“Are you still working for Ghoncheh?” she finally asked, breaking the silence. “Or have you finally started an organization of your own?”

“And why should I tell you?” he asked, frowning. “Last I heard, you were the Emperor’s lapdog.”

A dark look passed over her face. “I’m _no one’s_ lapdog…least of all, _his_.”

He smirked. “I highly doubt you’ve quit.”

She shifted her stance, cocking one hip and resting a fist on it. “Why should I tell you?” she retorted, using his own words against him.

“You wouldn’t be here unless you had an employer, that much I know.” He unconsciously let his gaze fall to her lips; they were dark red in color. Whether it was because of lipstick or if they had been stained by wine, he didn’t know. “ _Who_ are you working for?”

“I asked first.”

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Nor have you.”

Again, silence fell between them. A voice from inside the party boomed over loudspeakers, announcing that the auction was about to start. Neither made an effort to leave.

“Do you ever feel guilt for what you did?” It was Mundzuc who broke the silence this time. “For helping bring down your uncle?”

It took her a moment to respond. “At times, yes,” she admitted, voice quiet. “Most of the time, though, no. He needed to be brought down.”

“You know full well I was working on that.”

Her brow rose and she chuckled. “Obviously I did. That’s why I sided with the police.” She crossed her arms over her chest now. “Once you got rid of my uncle, I’d be left in charge— _and_ be left as your next target.” She was surprised; Mundzuc almost looked _hurt_.

“You really think I’d get rid of you?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t you? You wanted power and I would have been in the way of that power.” She brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. As she tilted her head, a bit of light caught the shine of her lips. She hadn’t worn red lipstick often; she had always preferred black or deep blue. Colors that were more striking; more intimidating.

He liked the red better.

Mundzuc shoved a hand into his pocket. “I wanted power, yes. But I wouldn’t have gone _that_ far. You _know_ I wouldn’t have.” He met her gaze again, watching as her eyes filled with uncertainty. “Or have you forgotten about Quebec?”

“You told me Quebec was a lie,” she said, voice cold as the snow around them. “An act you put on to seem less threatening to our target.”

“Of course I told you that. I _had_ to tell you that. Even you admitted that Shan Yu would have had my head if he found out. You’re his niece. _No one_ was allowed to pursue you…until that sniveling cop showed up.”

She frowned. “Qi was a hostage. _Nothing_ happened between us.”

“Maybe at first. But what happened _after_ Shan Yu was killed is an entirely different story.”

Zhu narrowed her eyes. “What? I’m not allowed to move on?”

Mundzuc frowned, his brows furrowing. “Of course you are. But you must admit, you moved on rather quickly.”

“Then maybe _someone_ should have dropped his act and spoken up instead of hiding in the shadows like the jealous _coward_ he is.”

His lip pulled back in a snarl as she turned away from him. Before she could walk away, however, he stormed forward and grabbed her arm. With surprising strength, he spun her back around and against him. She swore, but the sound was muffled as he kissed her.

Zhu made no effort to pull away.

Her lips had been stained by wine, he discovered. The sweetness of the alcohol was a mere ghost of flavor on her skin, but it was enough to make itself known. He wondered if it was wine that made her curve her body against his to bring herself even closer to him or, maybe—just _maybe_ —she had missed him as much as he had missed her. Feeling her arms wrap around him to grip the back of his jacket as she kissed him back, he sighed against her lips. Slipping one arm around her waist, the other made its way up her back until his hand rested on the back of her head.

She finally pulled back, parting them only long enough so she could speak. “I was hoping you would do that,” she whispered.


	16. Teacher/Single Parent AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a ficlet prompt thing from tumblr.   
> Characters: Disney's Ling, my Shan Zhu

Ling sighed, tapping a stack of papers on his desk before setting them aside. It was only one-thirty in the afternoon, but after the chaos that was his previous parent-teacher conference, it felt like one-thirty in the  _morning_. As he opened the top drawer of his desk, he glanced over at the clock; the next parent should be arriving at any moment. 

‘At least this one should go  _much_  smoother. Liling is a bright girl and, from what she’s told me, her mother should be easy enough to talk to...though, i hope she doesn’t yell at me for that day we did finger-painting...’ he thought, pulling out a manila folder containing the student’s achievements, exceptional schoolwork, and areas that they would need to work on. ‘Regardless, I’m sure she’ll be  _way_ better than Greg’s mom. Trying to  _seduce_ me to better his grade  _just_ because he got a B minus--in  _fourth_ grade, no less!’

Sticking his tongue out, he tried to shove the thought from his mind.

There was a light knock on the door frame followed by a, “Mr. Yunru?”

He nearly jumped, startled by the voice. Standing, he looked at the doorway only to find a tall, intimidating woman in an expensive-looking business jacket and pencil skirt. He was more than a little surprised by how daunting she looked; Liling was absolutely adorable and was the epitome of a little girl with a love of rainbows, tutus, and unicorns.

“You must be Ms. Shan!” Despite his shock, he wore a smile and stood, meeting her halfway and shaking her hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” she said, returning his smile. Ling nearly faltered when he saw it; the smile had instantly changed her from intimidating to approachable. “Liling’s quite fond of you. She’s constantly telling me about all the fun learning activities you do with the class.”

He couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride swell up inside him. “I try,” he chuckled, motioning for her to take a seat in the chair in front of his desk. “Finding ways to keep them interested and engaged is quite the challenge, since every child is different.”

“I can imagine.” As she sat down, she made sure to flatten her skirt against the back of her thighs. “I’m sure it doesn’t help that fourth grade is the age when they begin to take a more serious interest in some subjects and a more serious hatred of other subjects.”

“Too true,” he smiled, opening the manila folder. “Liling, however, seems to have only two subjects she’s not enjoying as much.”

Ms. Shan tilted her head ever so slightly. “Oh?”

He nodded. “While she excels in mathematics, science, and geography, I’ve noticed she struggles quite a bit with reading and English.” He handed her a sheet of paper that had a list of words written by Liling—a spelling test.

Taking the test, Ms. Shan looked it over. Almost every word was spelled incorrectly and some of the letters were written backwards. Her brows furrowed in concern.

“I think she may be dyslexic,” Ling told her, voice just a bit hesitant. He knew some parents would almost throw tantrums at the mere suggestion of their child having a learning disability.

“That would make sense,” she said, surprisingly Ling with her calmness. “She’s always enjoyed being read to, but when I started teaching her how to read, she told me the letters would sometimes move around. Don’t even get me started with trying to teach her how to read Chinese or Finnish— _that_ was impossible. Well, Finnish is nearly impossible regardless, so I can’t entirely blame that on dyslexia.”

He blinked; Chinese and Finnish were an odd combination. “So you’re a polyglot?”

She nodded, an almost embarrassed look coming to her face. “Yes. I’ve…done a _lot_ of traveling throughout my life,” she explained. “I’m fluent six languages in total.”

“Really? Which ones?” He rested his elbows on his desk, genuine interest all over his face.

“English, Mandarin Chinese, Finnish, Arabic, Portuguese, and Russian. It’s an odd bunch, I know,” she said with a small laugh.

“Odd, yes, but interesting nonetheless!” he reassured her. “How did you come to learn all them?”

Her cheeks turned a bit pink. “I was raised by my uncle, who traveled a lot for his work. He would take me along and hire a private tutor for me for the duration of his stays. When I got older, I worked for a cruise line, researching the cities the ships would stop at so the tourists could know which tourist traps were actually safe and which ones could lead to them to getting mugged.”

“Is that still your job?”

“Spirits, _no_ ,” she laughed. “I work in security now. A lot less traveling, but it’s a steady income with pretty good benefits.”

Ling nodded in understanding. “Wow…it sounds like you’ve been all over the place,” he smiled.

“I have,” she chuckled. “It’s probably why Liling’s so good at geography.”

He blinked, suddenly remembering that this conference was supposed to be about _Liling_ , _not_ her mother. “Ah, yes, Liling! That’s right. Sorry—sometimes I have the attention span of a fourth grader.” His cheeks grew bright red as he shuffled through the papers in the folder. “Right. Liling. Yes. Her dyslexia. There are tests that can be done to see how severe her dyslexia is, so I recommend—ack!”

In his hurry to retrieve the informational packet he had gathered for Ms. Shan, he had accidentally knocked over his metal water bottle. He tried to grab it, but it rolled away too fast, rolling right over the edge of the desk. Ms. Shan, however, caught it and handed it back to him.

“Th-thank you,” he murmured, his cheeks burning in embarrassment.

She quietly giggled. “It’s quite alright. We all have our clumsy moments.”

Ling rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, well, I have them more than most,” he said with a small laugh. “As I’m sure Liling’s told you.” He was more than a little surprised to find that she wasn’t at all annoyed or upset with him—in fact, she seemed more at ease now than she did at the beginning of the conference.

“She’s mentioned a few incidents, yes. But always with amusement and endearment.”

He smiled, intending to speak again, but there was a knock on the doorframe. Blinking, he found a couple standing just outside the classroom. Then, looking at the clock, he saw that it had already been half an hour.

“I’m sorry, just two quick minutes!” he told them, smiling apologetically at them. He then turned to Ms. Shan, finally handing her the packet as they both started to stand. “Here’s a little bit of information for you about dyslexia and some methods of helping her with the disability. There’s also a list of specialists that can be found within two hundred miles of us.”

She wore a curious look as she took the packet. “You really care about your students, don’t you?” she asked.

He shrugged, smiling again. “Isn’t that what teachers are supposed to do?” he chuckled.

“I wish my teachers did. Thank you, by the way, for this information.” She held out her hand for another handshake. “…And thank you for the conversation. It was nice, getting to laugh so much again.”

“You’re welcome,” he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just, ah—just be sure to let me know if you get her tested and if you’ve found any methods that work for her, alright?”

She smiled. “I will. Goodbye, Mr. Yunru.”

“Goodbye, Ms. Shan.” As he greeted the next couple, he found himself wishing that they hadn’t showed up just so he could have talked with Ms. Shan longer—or, at the very least, learn what her first name was.


	17. Teacher/Student AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure the requester of this prompt was hoping for illicit make outs and heavy flirting. They didn't get that, though i was tempted xD
> 
> Characters: Mundzuc (long haired member of Shan Yu's Elite), my oc Shan Zhu

Zhu stood outside the door to Professor Yevhen’s office, trying to force herself to knock on the door. She _knew_ she needed to knock because she needed to speak with the professor; she needed to ask him if it would be possible to switch from his morning classes to his evening ones. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to knock.

‘He’s just a professor, Zhu,’ she scolded herself. Taking a deep breath, she held it for a few seconds before slowly releasing it. ‘ _Just_ a professor. A…stupidly attractive professor, but a professor nonetheless. The worst he can do is tell you that the evening class is full and that you’ll have to take it at a different time…’

Shaking her head, she finally stepped forward. ‘Spirits help me; _how_ many times have I looked death in the eye and didn’t hesitate? But having to talk to my teacher leaves me a nervous wreck? Ugh.’ She raised her hand and knocked. ‘At least it’s only the second week of the semester…he should have a few seats open, right?’

“Come in.”

She opened the door and stepped into the office. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but shelves upon shelves of books, maps, globes, and antiques certainly wasn’t something she had anticipated on seeing. Professor Yevhen was always so organized in class; seeing the mess behind him was a shock.

“Ah, Miss Shan,” he said, setting down a pen and leaning back in his chair. “I was hoping I would get a chance to speak with you at some point soon. Please, have a seat.”

Her brow rose as she sat down. “…You were, sir? About what?”

“I would like to know _why_ you’re taking my class.” His own brow rose as he looked at her. “It’s obvious you don’t have much interest in the ancient history of the Eurasian peoples. You’ve fallen asleep multiple times this week alone.”

Zhu felt her cheeks turn dark red. “And _that_ is why I wanted to speak with you,” she retorted, doing her best to keep herself civil. The last thing she wanted to do was to let her snarkier side start to show. “It’s not that I’m not interested in your class—I am, really—it’s just that I work from midnight to seven in the morning. With your class being at eight…I don’t really have much energy left.” She rubbed the back of her neck, glancing away. “So, I was wanting to know if there was room left in your evening class so I could switch.” She glanced back at him, glad her cheeks were already red; why did he have to be one of the attractive professors?!

Yevhen sat up straighter, resting his arms on his deck. “While I appreciate knowing that you do, actually, have an interest in the class, I’m afraid to tell you that the evening class was removed from the schedule due to lack of interest.”

“Oh…well, when is this class being offered again?”

“Spring of next year.”

She cursed under her breath; she would be done with school by next fall. “And there are no other history classes later in the day?”

“There are,” he replied, “but I’m not sure how interested in the American Civil War, World War Two, or ancient Chinese history you are.” He chuckled when he saw the look of disgust on her face. “Not very, I take it.”

“Not really, no,” she sighed, shifting in the seat as she got ready to stand up. “I’m sorry, but I guess I’m going to have to drop your class, professor.” Her voice betrayed her disappointment.

“Not necessarily.”

She frowned, looking at him in confusion. “…Pardon?”

He stood up, walking across the office to one of the _slightly_ less messy bookshelves. “The evening class may have been removed from the roster for this semester, but that doesn’t mean you are limited to only the morning class.” Pulling down a binder, he started flipping through its contents. “You could take it as an independent study course. It would be worth less credit, since you’re technically not learning in a classroom.”

“That’s fine. I was just taking the class out of pure interest, not out of academic needs.” She watched him, her brows furrowed. What was he looking for…? “So, what does an independent study involve?”

“Just as it sounds, it’s you, doing research on your own with only a little bit of help from me.” Coming across what he was looking for, he opened the binder clips and pulled the sheet of paper out before closing them again. “Though, in this case, it would be more like a private tutoring lesson.” He returned to his desk with the paper; Zhu could see that it was some sort of academic form. “Does that sound like something that would work better with your schedule, Miss Shan?”

She nodded, a wave of relief washing over her. “Ye-yes, it does,” she replied. “Thank you.” She couldn’t help but feel shocked by his offer; during class, he seemed like a strict and unforgiving teacher. And yet, here he was, offering her a way to continue taking the class.

“Now, we’ll need to come up with a schedule for when and where we’ll meet up,” he told her, filling out the form. “But we can go over that later via email. For now, here.” The form filled out, he handed it to her. “Take this to your counselor and they’ll change your schedule. The sooner, the better.”

“Yes, sir.” She stood up. “Thank you again, sir. I really appreciate you doing this.”

“Prove your appreciation during your lessons,” he told her, a bit of amusement in his voice.

She chuckled. “Trust me, I will.”


	18. Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Dagur the Deranged, Snotlout Jorgenson

Snotlout grunted, dropping the weighted barbell on the ground with a loud, metallic clatter. Thanks to its rubber weights, it bounced and continued to clatter until he used his foot to stop it. Then, walking away from it, he grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face.

“Two-twenty-five. Not bad, Snotman.” He frowned, turning around in time to see Dagur walking towards him with a Gatorade in hand.

Snotlout was thankful his cheeks were already red thanks to his workout. “Eh, it’s nothing,” he replied, shrugging. He attempted to casually lean against one of the weight racks, but he only managed to nearly topple over as he missed his mark. He hoped Dagur didn’t notice. “So, you just finishing a workout or about to start one?”

“Just finishing, actually.” Opening the Gatorade, he took a long drink. “I was about to go reward myself with a big, greasy burger from the place down the street.”

“You mean Henrietta’s? Ugh, their burgers are _so_ good!” He practically started drooling at the thought.

Dagur grinned. “I know, right? And their milkshakes are _huge_!”

“Don’t forget their cheesesteak poutine,” Snotlout added. “That stuff is _divine_.”

Laughing, Dagur cocked his brow. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried poutine, let alone cheesesteak poutine.” He took another drink of Gatorade. “If you’re done with your workout, why don’t you come with me?”

Snotlout perked before suddenly frowning. “Ah…I’d like to, but I kinda…don’t really have any money on me at the moment.”

Dagur shrugged. “My treat.”

Snotlout blinked. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Anyway, I need _someone_ to eat the poutine if I don’t end up liking it.” Another swig of Gatorade and he had the bottle almost empty. “Go get cleaned up. I’ll be waiting outside.” He walked off, his brow rising as he thought he heard Snotlout running to the locker room.

Ten minutes later, he was waiting outside when Snotlout came sprinting out of the gym. Under his backwards baseball-cap, his hair was dripping wet—whether with sweat or with water, Dagur wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“You ready then?” he asked, shoving a hand in his pocket.

Snotlout grinned. “Hell yeah! Bring on that delicious cheesesteak poutine!”

Snorting, Dagur rolled his eyes and started to walk down the street. “What is poutine anyway?”

“You…don’t know what poutine is?” Snotlout gawked at him. “You’re kidding! _Everyone_ knows what poutine is!”

“Well, clearly, I’m _not_ everyone,” Dagur replied, his voice dry as salt. “Just tell me what is it.”

Snotlout glanced away, a bit of a pout on his face. “It’s basically French Fries covered in gravy and cheese curds,” he explained, “but people have been playing around with it and making different sorts of poutine.” He then shrugged. “No one’s tried making one with ice cream and chocolate sauce, though.”

“That…sounds like it would be amazing, actually. I didn’t think anyone else liked ice cream with their fries.”

“It’s like, the ultimate snack food!” Snotlout grinned. “You should try fries in caramel turtle ice cream. It’s like an orgasm in your mouth.”

Dagur stared at him for a moment before cracking up laughing. Realizing what he had said, Snotlout turned bright red. “You—You know what I mean!” he pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s just really good, okay?”

“I get it, I get it,” Dagur assured him. “It was just funny the way you phrased it.” Reaching the diner, he shoved open the door, letting Snotlout head in first. He headed in after, finding only about four other people in the diner.

Once they were in a booth, it was only a few seconds before a waitress came over. She was surprised the two didn’t need menus, but smiled and took their orders of cheesesteak poutine, two double cheeseburgers with the works, a strawberry-banana milkshake, and a Sprite. It only took a few minutes for them to get their drinks and a few minutes longer for the poutine to arrive.

“Look at that melty, cheesy goodness,” Snotlout grinned. He reached over and grabbed a fry, hoisting it above his head to demonstrate how cheesy it was. “Pizza ain’t got nothin’ on this stuff.” Bring the fry back down, he used it to scoop up some meat as well.

“Hey, this cheese is _totally_ different from pizza cheese,” Dagur chuckled. He picked up a fry and inspected it before popping it into his mouth. “Hm. Not bad,” he said after swallowing.

Snotlout made sure to keep his mouth shut as he chewed his food; he knew Dagur had a tendency to go bonkers if someone chewed with their mouth open. “Get one that has cheese, meat, and some peppers on it,” he said when he finished the bite. “Like this one.” He picked up a fry that was absolutely _coated_ in the toppings.

“This one good enough?” he chuckled, holding up an almost identical fry.

“Yeah!” He shoved his fry in his mouth, having to continuously pull on an especially long string of cheese. He was so occupied with his cheese that he didn’t notice that Dagur was stuck doing the same thing—that is, until they lightly bonked heads over the plate.

Dagur blinked, his brow rising. He didn’t know what proper etiquette for such a situation was.

Snotlout, however, chuckled a bit nervously, hoping his cheeks were red. “So, uh…you wanna kiss as bad as I do right now?” he half joked. Seeing Dagur’s brows furrow, he let out another laugh. “You know—Lady and the Tramp style?”

“Never seen it,” Dagur said, using his fingers to break the cheese string.

Snotlout gave him a dry, unimpressed expression. “Never had poutine, never seen Lady and the Tramp…what the hell kind of childhood did you have?”


	19. I think I'm in love with you and that scares the crap out of me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: My ocs Shan Da and Empress Zhi

It was freezing.

Zhi knew she should crawl out from under the nice, warm layers of furs and blankets so she could rebuild the fire and get the yurt at least a _little_ bit warm. She also knew that it was probably a good idea to try and cook something, especially since her stomach was growling with hunger. She also needed to work on repairing some clothing—something she needed to cross the yurt to do.

But it was so _cold_!

After working up the gumption to move, she reluctantly slid out from beneath the blankets. ‘We could have been closer to the Arabian Empire,’ she thought with a frown. ‘But _no_ …for _some_ reason, we had to be in the northern steppes during _winter_!’ She made quick work of pulling a second dress over her head before wrapping herself up in a thick coat.

Zhi rubbed her upper arms, her body not appreciating the drastic change in temperature. Quickening her pace, she headed to the middle of the yurt and knelt down beside the firepit. It was a bit warmer there thanks to the coals leftover from the previous night’s fire. She used a piece of wood to gather up whatever coals she could find and then started to carefully pile kindling atop the pile.

Zhi had just managed to get the kindling to light when the flap to the yurt was flung open. A tall, handsome man with golden skin and jet-black hair that was currently speckled by snow came in. In his hands, he carried a large pot filled with fresh snow, which he carried over to the hearth.

“I see you’re finally up,” he said, setting the pot down. Kneeling down, he watched as Zhi started to add larger pieces of kindling to the growing fire.

“I’ve been awake quite some time,” she retorted. “I even heard you leave. I just didn’t want to leave the nice, warm bed.” She gently blew on the flames, urging them to grow larger.

His brows furrowed and he tilted his head somewhat. “You’re cold?” he questioned. “Even with the thick clothing I’ve given you?”

“Da, I’m used to being in a nice, warm _palace_ during the winter,” she told him, voice dry. “Being in a—in a glorified tent during winter in the steppes is _not_ something I can get used as easily as you!”

He frowned, his eyes filling with hurt, but his face remaining neutral. “Then I will gather up what I can and better insulate the yurt,” he said quietly.

Closing her eyes, Zhi let out a heavy sigh. She hated how hard he tried to make her happy. “Don’t bother,” she quietly told him. “Let someone else have it.”

“But you just said—”

“I _know_ what I said, Da,” she snapped. “Why do you have to be so—so _nice_ to me all the time?!” she demanded, her frustration all too obvious. “I’m your _captive_ ; aren’t you supposed to beat me and yell at me and constantly threaten my life?”

He stared at her, the frown still on his face. “You are not my enemy,” he answered, “and, as such, I will not treat you like one. You are my captive, yes, but you are also the Empress of China. You deserve respect, not contempt.”

Zhi stood up and stormed away from the fire. “China is your enemy and, as its Empress, that makes me _your_ enemy.” She angrily started to pull out food and cooking utensils. “Yu treats me poorly. Edeco treats me poorly. Bleda all but wants me dead. But _no_ , you have to be _nice_ to me!” She slammed a clay bowl down on the table only to yelp as it shattered.

Da rushed over, taking her small hands in his own as he searched her palms for any cuts. Finding one, he gently pressed the sleeve of his jacket against it.

“Why do you have to be so kind?” Zhi choked out, tears streaming down her cheeks. She yanked her hand away from him, holding it against her chest. “You’re the second prince of the Huns! You and your brother are the greatest threat to my people since Attila the Hun! But here you are, being kind and treating me like a—a—a person instead of a prisoner! _Why!?_ ”

There was confusion all over his face as he looked down at her. “Because that is who I am,” he replied. “Why does this bother you so much?”

Unable to stop herself, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his chest. She felt Da wrap his arms around her; despite his immense strength, he was incredibly gentle. “I think I’m in love with you,” she whispered, “and it scares the shit out of me.”

 


	20. What's that behind your back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Disney's Yao, Disney's Princess Mei

Yao poked his head around the corner. Looking around, he made sure the coast was clear before beginning to creep his way across the courtyard. He kept the basket he was carrying close to his chest, not wanting to risk its contents coming to harm by swinging freely at his side.

He was almost to the door to the servants’ house when a voice startled him. “There you are, Yao!”

Spinning around, he hurried hid the basket behind his back. As Mei came towards him, he tried to look as innocent as possible. “Were—Were ya lookin’ for me?” he asked, taking a small step backwards.

“Yes, I was! I’ve been looking for you all day, actually.” She smiled and he nearly melted at the sight. “I’ve just finished the last of the hemming on your coat and I was wondering if you had time to come try it on?”

“Er, actually…” His cheeks turned a bit red and he looked away guiltily. “I had somethin’ I needed t’ do with—uh, with—” His eye shot open when a tiny whine came from behind his back.

Mei gave him a curious look. “…Is everything alright, Yao?” she questioned. She knew he wasn’t the best of liars, but usually, he wasn’t _this_ bad at lying.

“Fine! Everything’s fine!” he said, a little too quickly.

She put her hands on her hips and stared him down. “What’s that behind your back, then?” she demanded.

His face turned even redder. “N-Nothin’! Just an empty basket!” More whining followed by the sound of tiny scratches against the sides of the basket.

“Yao…you do realize that I know you’re hiding something, right?” Her voice, though a bit dry, sounded amused. “Just tell me what it is so you don’t have to be so—so _shifty_ anymore.”

Slouching in defeat, Yao carefully pulled the basket out from behind his back. “They _were_ supposed t’ be a surprise for ya, Ting-Ting, an’ Su,” he told her. As he lifted the lid, Mei let out a small squeal and wiggled somewhat when she saw that the basket held three, fluffy puppies.

“They’re so cute!” she cooed, scooping up the fluffiest of the three. “Oh my heavens, look how _fluffy_ they are! And they’re so tiny!” She giggled as the puppy started to lick her cheek.

“I thought ya might like ‘em,” he smiled, plucking out the other two so they wouldn’t feel left out. “I _was_ goin’ t’ wait a few days so I could give ya three the lil’ scamps on the anniversary o’ ya comin’ to live in Tianshui,” he chuckled. He then tilted his head, frowning somewhat when he saw that there were actual tears streaming down Mei’s cheeks. “Mei…? Are ya alright?”

She sniffled and nodded, still cuddling the puppy who was, by now, licking her ear. “They’re just—they’re just so cute!”

Closing his eye, Yao chuckled and shook his head. Then, he handed the other two puppies to her, laughing once more as she cradled them. “How ‘bout we go show Ting-Ting an’ Su their new pets, hmm?”

 


	21. An Offer She can't Refuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An opening for a Kuroshitsuji fanfic I'll never write. No romance, just an exasperated oc and her hounds.

It was nearly impossible to see where she was going.

With the shouting of the angry men behind her and the darkness ahead of her, Madelina was unsure where her panic was taking her. On either side of her were her two hounds, their silhouettes even darker than the forest ahead of her. One of them, Lady, looked behind them almost as if she were assessing the situation.

‘I hope I’m not running right back towards them,’ Madelina thought as she stumbled through some undergrowth. ‘I can’t keep track of where I’m going in this forest! It’s so dark; it’s like running through a cave!’

She shuddered at the thought.

A strange feeling suddenly overcame her—an eerie sense of foreboding and darkness. Not darkness in the sense of a lack of light, but the kind of darkness brought on by wickedness. She had felt this feeling before; only, back then, she hadn’t recognized it for what it was.

In the dark, she was unable to see the rotting log in her path. A cry left her mouth as her leg smacked into the wood and she went flying forward. She landed in a heap a few feet away, pain filling a good portion of her body.

She suddenly heard Lady and Dracul growling. But then, they suddenly went quiet. As she looked up, she didn’t expect to see anything and that was exactly what she got. With a quiet curse, she started to push herself upright only to let out another curse as something—or, rather, some _one_ —grabbed the back of her shirt and lifted her up.

“My, my…what do we have here?” came a man’s voice. As she was turned around, Madelina could barely make out a face just a few inches from hers. “A little trespasser, is it? Tsk, tsk. You should know better.” There was mockery and amusement in his voice; the combination sent a shiver down her spine.

“I-I don’t mean to be trespassing, sir!” she told him, her voice a bit breathless sounding thanks to her running. She winced as she could hear the yelling of the met in the distance. “I was running away—”

“Your accent indicates you’re from Romania,” he interrupted, his voice sounding less amused, “or somewhere in the area. Perchance you’re a Romani being chased by an angry mob after telling a bad fortune? Or stealing from the wrong person?”

Her brows knitted together. “What!? No!” She shook her head. “No, those men are drunkards! They’re angry at me because I refused—” She was abruptly silenced as the man pressed his fingers to her lips. The finger then moved to her chin, where it forced her to tilt her head up more.

There was a _literal_ flash of red in the man’s eyes and she swore.

He was a demon.

“You’re the Cursed One,” he stated, quite simply.

She felt her breath catch in her throat and, for a few short seconds, her heart stopped. “H-How…?!”

“Your golden eyes, the rose-gold flush to your cheeks, and the weariness in your voice that can only be brought on by immortality.” Though she couldn’t see the smirk on his lips, she could hear in his voice. “And those most certainly are _not_ drunkards chasing you—Unless, of course, they’re drunken priests. I can’t see anyone else shouting about how you must return to them so that you can be the blessed weapon of God you were meant to be.”

Her lips pulled back in a snarl. “And I suppose, now that you’ve caught me, you intend to drag me down to hell so I can become Satan’s unholy weapon?” she growled. She writhed against his grip, trying to free herself.

To her surprise, he laughed. “I have little interest in what Satan wants,” he told her. “Be you the Cursed One or not. I only care for the things _I_ want.”

“And just what is it _you_ want with me?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing. “You wouldn’t have continued talking to me for so long if you didn’t want something. Once a person finds out what I am, they always want me for some unholy ritual or some form of weapon. So, which is it then: My blood or my body?”

“Your cooking skills.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded by his answer. “My…cooking skills?” she hesitantly repeated.

“Yes.” He suddenly reached up, hanging her from a tree branch. “Pardon me a moment; I have some vermin to deal with.”

Before she could say anything, the demon disappeared into the night. For a moment, she wriggled, trying to free herself from the branch—but it was to no avail. Sighing in defeat, she narrowed her eyes and tried to find her hounds.

“Lady, Dracul!” she quietly called out. Making a gentle clicking sound, she tried to listen for their panting or their sniffing. But, save for the angry shouting, all was quiet. ‘What did he do to my hounds?’ she thought, gritting her teeth. ‘If he hurt them, then demon or not, he’s going to be sorry!’

She suddenly cringed as screams of horror filled her ears. ‘Oh gods, what is the demon doing to them?’ she thought, unconsciously grabbing a lock of her hair and starting to smooth it between her fingers over and over again. ‘He better not be killing them—they’re just unwitting pawns, after all…Even if they do want to use me as a weapon’

A few seconds later and silence descended. She shuddered, feeling very alone and very scared.

“Now, where were we?”

Madelina yelped in surprise, trying to throw herself away from the voice, but only succeeded in smacking her head into the tree branch above her. Groaning, she rubbed the top of her head.

“Come now—was that really warranted?” the demon asked, his voice bland. “You knew I would be coming back for you. There was no need for you to be startled.”

“No need for me to be startled!?” she repeated, tears stinging her eyes. The top of her head hurt something awful. “One minute, I’m running for my life and the next, there’s a _demon_ hanging me up in a tree! Not to mention, I don’t know what you did with my hounds—How can I _not_ be startled!?”

“Your hounds are fine,” he told her, disgust in his voice. “I merely froze them in time. Vile creatures, though. Canines are so filthy and disloyal. All it takes is a bit of meat and you can win them away from their masters quite easily.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Those hounds were given to me by the Nordic god of fire and trickery,” she growled through clenched teeth. “They will forever be loyal to me and me _alone_. Now _what_ do you want with me?” she demanded, wanting to get down out of the tree.

He let out a disappointed sigh and clicked his tongue. “Do you forget everything so easily, Cursed One? I told you once already that I want you for your cooking skills.”

“And how do you know I even _have_ cooking skills?” She was just barely able to see the mischievous glint that lit up his eyes.

“Because I now recognize you as someone else in addition to being the Cursed One,” he told her.

“Oh?”

He made a sound of agreement. “You are one of the chefs at the Criterion Theatre in Piccadilly Circus,” he stated.

She let out a dry laugh. “Close,” she told him. “I was a simple waitress who was picked up an apron and a knife when one of the chefs threw a temper tantrum and left.”

“My apologies then. However, I _do_ know that it was your food my master ate and adored. As such, I am willing to strike you a deal.”

Her brow rose and she crossed her arms over her chest. “A demon wanting to make a deal? That doesn’t sound suspicious _at all_.” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm. “What kind of deal?”

“In exchange for sparing your life—as you _are_ trespassing on my master’s lands and he is not at all fond of trespassers—you will become the cook for his household.”

She narrowed her eyes; that sounded far too simple of deal for a demon to make. “What’s the catch?” she questioned. “I _know_ there is more to it than that. And why does your master even need a cook? Can’t you cook well enough for his liking?”

A quiet chuckle left the demon’s mouth. “Of course I can,” he answered, “but of late, I find myself stretched between caring for my master’s needs as well as the need’s of his long-lost sister. Among other duties, of course.”

“What, are you the only servant they have?” she asked, voice dry.

“The only _competent_ servant, yes. There are four others: One is all but retired from butler duties, though he runs the family’s company. The other three were hired more for their combat skills than their ability to service a household.”

She frowned, confused. “Combat skills…?” she murmured.

“Yes. You see, my master has an incredibly long list of enemies that would like to see him and his sister eliminated. A few of those enemies nearly succeeded some years ago, but—”

“Wait—you’re telling me you work for Earl _Phantomhive_?!” she gawked.

“Ah! You’re familiar with him, then?” He sounded pleased by this. “Good, good—that means I needn’t explain the history any further. So, then: Do you accept my offer?”

Madelina shook her head. “Let me get this straight: Even though you’re a demon, you’re feeling overwhelmed with your workload and you want me to take over cooking duties—even though the household, more than likely, already has a cook? One who evidently isn’t very good at cooking?”

“You may be asked to help with other chores, of course, and you must swear loyalty to the Phantomhive family,” he added, “but, yes, that is the gist of what I want _your_ end of the deal to be. In exchange, you will be given a room, livable wages, the freedom to buy whatever necessities for the kitchen that you see fit, as well as my promise to not hand-deliver you to Satan himself. I don’t expect you have any skill with fighting, given how small you are, so—”

At that, she rolled her eyes. “I know how to fight,” she told him. “I may not be the biggest person in the world, but I take out kneecaps very well.”

If she could see through the dark, Madelina would have been able to see the slightest hint of a grin come to the demon’s lips. “Very well, then. You will also assist in the defending of the manor should trouble ever arise.”

“And my hounds?”

A heavy, disgusted sigh left his mouth. “…I _suppose_ I can tolerate their presence, so long as they stay out of my way. But only because you stated they were a gift from a pagan god, which means they will behave better than normal mutts.”

“Let me guess: You’re a cat person?” she asked, voice dry.

“I am. Now, do you accept my offer?”

She tiredly rubbed her face; it was late, she was exhausted from running for her life, and now she was being told that she could either cook for nobility or—quite literally—go to hell. To top it all off, this offer was being given to her by a _demon_. ‘I’ve been through worse situations,’ she thought to herself. Her body was starting to feel heavy and not just because she was hanging from the branch. ‘And I’ll be able to do something I enjoy for once. Surely, it can’t be _that_ bad…?’ Another heavy sigh left her mouth and she looked up, seeing the demon’s red eyes a few feet from her.

“I accept.”


End file.
